


A Budding Flower

by TheChocolateTigress (TheKissofMidnight)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKissofMidnight/pseuds/TheChocolateTigress
Summary: After a bad break up, a young woman learns to open her heart again.
Relationships: Victor Creed/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I originally had this posted on FF and Tumblr. I will continue to post updates on FF but I won't be posting this on my old Tumblr account anymore. My account got flagged as explicit, still not sure why, but its kind of pointless to keep posting work that won't come up in search results...

The club is unusually crowded today. Of course, weekends are usually full of 'gentlemen' and there are only two occasions when the rather spacious hole in the wall is overcrowded. Either it's someone 's birthday, or all these men are coming from a funeral. At some point in the night, I stopped keeping track of the random hands randomly grabbing my ass. It's pointless as I can never find the culprit, and it doesn't change that I have to squeeze through sweaty, smelly bodies to deliver alcohol to the VIP section. I stand at the bar as Tracee fills an ice bucket with three bottles of the club's most expensive bourbon.

"I'm convinced somebody died." I say as she scoots the bucket towards me.

"There's something about watching women dance on poles that helps men forget dead relatives," Tracee sticks a jar of limes and lemons in the bucket. "And I guess booze helps too. Whose ordering this stuff by the way? This man's bill is off the charts."

"He's an acquaintance of the boss I think. They're sitting together."

"Hurry along then, don't wanna keep the boss waiting."

I balance the bucket on the top of my head as I meander through the mob squishing itself close to the stage. Sarah, Claudia, and Nana, otherwise known as "the Fairies", are on tonight; they're the best pole dancers the club has and are putting on a spectacular show. When I finally reach the VIP entrance, Bruce the Bouncer steps aside to let me up the stairs. Helen is waiting for me at the top, her hazel eyes frantic.

"There you are, what the fuck took you so long!" she has to yell over the loud music and jeers of men.

"I'm working as quick as I can Helen."

"Doesn't matter, I'm just glad you're back. The boss's friend is a little more intense than I can handle. Do you think we could switch places for a bit, just so I can take a break?"

There are approximately ten sex workers employed by the boss. I'm not one of them but every now and then Helen or Julia asks me to entertain men in their place so they could take breathers. Usually entertainment involved small chat- at least that's all I've ever done.

"Sure, but don't take too long. Lily and I are the only servers for VIP today." she kisses me on the cheek in thanks before taking off.

There are four separate rooms in the VIP section; each one contains overly large couches and long tables. A huge window overlooked the entire downstairs; the viewer gets a great perspective of the stage. I enter room two and restrain the need to gag as the scent of cigars almost overwhelms me. Julia, Amethyst, and Desiree are sitting on a gaudy red couch with Fat Tom (the boss's cousin), Randy Milan (the current leader of the Milan syndicate), and Luthor Dixon (a very rich regular). On the opposite side sits the boss, wearing a vintage mahogany suit. And next to the boss is the stranger.

Long blonde hair that's slicked back. His entire mandible sports a blonde groomed beard. Amber eyes watch me place the bucket on the table and pull out one bottle. The stranger wears a black fitted suit, a satin blood red tie, and Gucci black leather loafers. He definitely oozes authority and money. I wonder if he's a big tipper? The glasses are already on the table, waiting to be filled with more dark liquor. I take my time pouring into each glass, strategizing how to approach the Boss's friend.

The girls are fully glamorized compared to me. I'm wearing a simple sleeveless black dress with a hem that stops mid thigh. Simple and sleek black stilettos that showed off red painted toenails. My makeup is basic: foundation, concealer, light contouring and highlight and blush, a simple smokey eye, a little mascara to give definition to naturally long lashes, and my favorite cherry red matte lipstick to finish. My hair is thrown up in a neat bun. I'm not even wearing a lot of jewelry, just small white pearl studs.

"Harmony," the Boss speaks in a stern voice, but us girls know he's a big softy. "My friend here doesn't believe you're a polyglot."

"It's true," I say, staring at his friend. I can see what Helen means by intense, it's difficult to maintain eye contact when someone is glaring at you like you're a piece of meat.

"I speak English, German, and French fluently."

"He doesn't believe you can." Randy conveys; there's doubt in the stranger's fiery gaze.

"Say something sexy in German." Fat Tom adds. None of them even know German, nonetheless I comply.

"This fool always chooses German for some reason. I think he has a hard on for it." I say, the words flowing effortlessly. Fat Tom applauds, not knowing I'd just insulted him. But a smirk graces the stranger's lips. That's when I notice his canine teeth are longer than what is considered normal.

"You're a bold woman, to speak negatively of your employer's companions." the stranger responds in perfect German. I feel like my stomach turned itself inside out.

"I didn't know you speak German Victor." the Boss says; he's just as surprised as everyone else.

By the time Helen returns, I've ended up on Victor's lap. Desiree had goaded me into drinking and after a few shots of bourbon I became uncharacteristically talkative.

"I don't know any man with actual fangs, are they real?" I query.

"As real as these." Victor replies, showing off a full set of sharp white talons attached to all ten of his finger tips. That certainly is not normal.

"You must be a mutant then." I say. Some mutants physically embody their mutation; they're not a common sight in Chicago.

"Does that bother you?"

"No. It doesn't. I should really get back to work." I say, just as Helen walks in.

"You are working. You are entertaining me." Victor says, wrapping an arm around my waist. My cheeks heat up as I try to pry away his embrace.

"I have to tend to other rooms, not just this one. I'm a server." I urge and try to stand, but he's not having it.

"Serve me my drink then." He holds up his glass, which is half full of bourbon. He brings the glass to lips and in one gulp finishes his drink. Then he hands me the glass. I glance at Helen and the Boss, unsure of what to do. The boss paid me no mind; he had situated himself on the other couch and was in deep conversation with Luthor Dixon. Helen gave me a 'give him what he wants' look. I reach over and grab the bourbon bottle, filling Victor's glass all the way to the top.

"I have to go now...sir." he doesn't stop me this time as I stand. I'm almost out the door when I hear his order.

"Bring another bottle."

* * *

As I check on my other guests, all I can think about is my inevitable return to room two. I could ask Lily to bring the bottle, theoretically it doesn't have to be me. But I have a feeling Victor would not like that, and the last thing I want is to displease the boss. He doesn't mistreat his girls but he doesn't take bullshit either. I return to the bar, giving Tracee all the details of my encounter.

"You certainly know how to make an impression, I'm pretty sure Mr. Furry is ogling you right now."

"What?"

My eyes follow where Tracee points. It isn't hard to spot amber eyes regarding me. Immediately I look away, my face hot and my heart pacing slightly faster.

"What the hell does he want from me? I mean, I know what he wants, but why me?"

"Harmony, you do know how gorgeous you are right," Tracee says, sliding me another expensive bottle of bourbon.

"He's very handsome. I wouldn't hesitate taking him home."

"I am not going home with a man I don't know."

"Sorry, sorry. I forgot, you're the Virgin Mary."

"Tracee!"

"What! You're a single woman! You're always complaining about not getting any but when a guy clearly wants you you don't take the chance. You don't have to wait for a man to be your boyfriend to sleep with him. Having a one night stand is okay."

"Tracee, I am not-"

"Repeat it with me. Having a one night stand is okay," she wouldn't let it go until I recited the words. "See? If you can say it, you can do it."

I roll my eyes at her; I want to call her crazy but I know how much she hates that word. I grab the bottle and head back upstairs.

Everyone, except Victor, is squished on the same couch. Helen found solace in entertaining Fat Tom, and she absolutely loathes Fat Tom. The second Victor sees me he smiles, revealing sharp canines. He lifts a hand, motioning for me to come to him. When I'm close enough he grabs my arm gently and brings me back on his lap.

"I've been bored without you, kitten."

"There's seven other people in here." I reply,

"None of them are as interesting as you." he speaks in German.

"What makes me so interesting?" I reply in the same language.

"Many things, kitten. Your red lips, your breasts, the curves of your hips, your thighs," he squeezes my thigh and I have to contain the reflex to squeak like a small animal.

"I like that I can say I want to fuck you into the next day and no one else will know, but you."

I press my thighs closer together as I feel heat gather in my pelvis.

"What else do you like?" the words are rushing out of my mouth without thought.

"Your scent," he leans in close, so close I feel his breath on my neck. "Your dark chocolate skin."

God, he's saying all the right words.

"That's all you have to say in the one hour we've known each other." I had to say something to diffuse the erotic tension. Grant it, I regretted ruining the tension in the first place. He leans back into the couch, his amber eyes have a playful glint.

"I like that you like Robert Frost, based on the tattoo on your lower back,"

The dress doesn't conceal my back at all, and excerpt from the "Road not Taken" is written in small, neat letters close to my ass. Yes, I know, not a great spot to put one of the most famous poems of all time. I was kind of high when I got the tattoo.

"I like that you're a neat freak."

"I'm not a neat freak."

"You are, kitten. Neat freaks have a distinct scent. I bet your abode is sparkly clean and you don't invite people over because you don't want them to mess up your pretty home."

My mouth goes agape, "How?.." how does he know I've never invited anyone over my house? No one besides Tracee and Lily. And how does he know that based on my scent? What kind of weird shit is that?

"Now you're making me sound stuck up." I cross my arms in disapproval.

"Nothing wrong with being stuck up, kitten."

"Stop calling me that, I'm a grown woman."

"What would you prefer then?"

"My name is Harmony."

"We should go somewhere more quiet, Harmony."

I think he knew he said the wrong thing based on my awkward silence. I pull at my dress hem, wishing it was longer. Tracee's words are replaying in my head, 'having a one night stand is okay'.

"How long has it been for you, little kitten?" he teases, much to my chagrin. How does he even know it's been a while for me, has he been talking to Tracee?

"A few years."

"Years!" his amber eyes flash at the revelation. I look away annoyed and flustered.

"There's nothing wrong with that." I murmur, mainly to myself.

"I'm sorry kitten. I'm not trying to offend. I'm just amazed is all. The poor men you've rejected must think themselves great failures."

"Most of those men were assholes."

"Doesn't matter if they were assholes. They didn't seduce you properly, that's why they failed."

"And you're going to properly seduce me?"

"I'll follow your pace, Harmony."

I tug at my dress hem again, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

"I'm so sorry sir, but I need my friend." I nearly jumped out my skin as Lily tugs at my arm; when did she walk in?

"Something's going on in room four." she whispers in my ear and in a second I'm on my feet.

"Please, excuse us." I say before rushing out the door, Lily following behind. The door to room four is wide open, and I instantly see the issue. One of the guests, a woman, is passed out on the floor and the four girls around her are panicking.

"Lily go get Bruce right now."

* * *

By six in the morning, the club was finally emptying out. Fortunately the girl in room four turned out fine and went home early with her friends- crisis evaded. Lily and I cleaned out the VIP rooms save for room two. It was still occupied. Lily helped out the performers in the dressing rooms while I helped Tracee and the other bartenders close up. I'm in the middle of drying a wine glass when Tracee taps my shoulder.

"Your man wants to talk." she says with a huge grin.

"Tell him I'm not available."

"You tell him, he's right there." and low and behold, the only thing separating us is the long bar counter. I glare at Tracee and she shrugs her shoulders. I put away the wine glass and am startled when confronting him. Tall is an underestimation. Bruce the Bouncer is the tallest person in the club, and Victor is taller.

"I can't talk right now, I'm working."

"You can go Harmony, we're good." Tracee voices loudly. If the boss's friend wasn't here I would have called her a fucking bitch.

"Reginald told me you live close to here. Would you permit me to walk you home?" Reginald is the Boss's name; none of us would ever dare call him by his first name. He's named after his father, and he hates his father. I want to say no but I keep thinking about those wretched words. 'Having a one night stand is okay.'

"Give me a minute to grab my things."

Even though it's almost December in Chicago, it's relatively warm outside- if you consider forty degrees warm. I stuff my hands in my trench coat pockets. It snowed a few days ago so the sidewalk is littered here and there with muddy snow. Victor walks next to me; even though I'm walking pretty fast I feel like he's making himself match my strides. The sky has taken on a warm grey hue as the sun begins its ascent.

"So, how do you know the Boss?" I say.

"He is in need of my services."

"What kind of services?"

"Protection."

Protection? Is the Boss in trouble? I want to inquire more but it's obvious this has to do with the illegal side of the Boss's business, and the less I know the better.

"Do you run some kind of bodyguard agency?" I never thought that was an actual thing, just something you see in movies.

"Of sorts. The type of service depends on the level of threat."

"Hm." I definitely don't need to know what kind of threat the boss is under.

"I'll be in Chicago for a while, I don't know the city very well. Maybe you could show me around."

I glance at Victor, is he asking me out?

"I wouldn't mind. How about this afternoon, around two?"

"You've been working all night."

"I don't ever get a lot of sleep. I only need a few hours."

"It's a date then."

I stop in front of an old apartment building. My landlord told me it was built in the early 1900s. I could afford better, but I'm obsessed with inanimate objects and their history. Plus, I have the whole top floor to myself. My anxiety is rising by the second- do I ask him to come upstairs with me? Do I make him wait hours to see me again? What would Tracee do?

"I'm sure you want me to help you out of that dress," Victor begins, "But I have a few things to tend to before our date." he takes my hands and kisses the back of it before taking off in the other direction. He leaves me standing outside my home, feeling stupid.


	2. 2

I must be losing my mind. It can't be possible to have this many clothes, but nothing to wear. My entire bed is enveloped by my entire wardrobe. My bedroom floor is covered with heels, sneakers, and boots.

"I need help." I cry. I grab the phone on my nightstand, dialing Tracee's number. She picks up on the third ring, and she isn't in a happy mood.

"You'd better be dying Harmony, cause I literally just fell asleep."

"I'm supposed to be going on a date with Victor, but I can't decide what to wear, you have to come over."

"Bitch. You could step out in a potato sack and he'd still want to bang you."

"Please, don't make me beg. I think I kind of, somewhat, like him."

"A one night stand isn't supposed to result in a date."

"We haven't done anything, he walked me home and that was it. Please say you'll help me."

"Fine! Fine. when's the date?"

"He's picking me up at two."

"Okay, I'll be there at eleven." she hangs up.

I sigh in relief and start putting away the mountain of clothes and shoes. By the time I finish, the sun is well in the sky. It's rays come in through the massive arch window right above my bed, bathing most of my studio apartment in light. Stairs lead down into the main area; the living room and kitchen are side by side, and my workspace is right under my bedroom. Since I couldn't sleep, I might as well get in a little painting.

On an easel is a sixteen by twenty canvas. I painted it black yesterday to prep for a portrait. Ms. Jenkins, my neighbor directly below me, is having her hundredth birthday on Wednesday. Her daughter asked me to create a portrait of her mother, giving me an old black and white picture of a young woman. I take out white and black acrylic tubes from my work desk, squeezing a small portion of both onto a pallet. Next to the easel is a big bucket of water and brushes. I've taped the picture on my pallet and covered it in plastic to not ruin it.

Ms. Jenkins was a very beautiful twenty year old. She always told me stories about her twenties during our ritual Sunday tea time. She married her husband when she was nineteen. She had all of her three children by twenty three. She survived the depression. During World War Two, her husband was drafted and she had to work and care for her children by herself. In the picture she is youthful and seems at peace. You wouldn't think she had much going on in her life. Perhaps that's why her daughter chose this photo.

* * *

I spend a few hours on the painting and then clean up. As I'm washing paint off my hands I hear a loud knock on the front door.

"Door's open!" I shout. Tracee walks in, holding a coffee in one hand and her purse in the other.

"Hey baby girl." she greets as she takes her shoes off, leaving them at the front door with my other shoes.

"Did you get any sleep?" I ask,

"I got some hours in. you?"

"Oh, I didn't sleep at all."

"That excited huh?" she has a flirty smile on her painted lips.

My cheeks warm up, "I guess I'm a little excited."

"Admit it, you want to fuck him. And I'm here to make sure you don't fuck up your chance. Do you want me to follow you on the date? Make sure things go smooth?"

"You'd do that for me?"

Tracee comes up behind me and plants a gross, wet kiss on my cheek, "That's what best friends do for each other."

I dry my hands and my cheek with a kitchen towel then lead Tracee upstairs to the bedroom. I have a few large wardrobes filled with clothes and shoes.

"First thing we need is music." Tracee says as she rummages through my stuff.

By twelve we managed to find three possible outfits to wear. The first would be more comfortable in the cold weather, but it's kind of basic. The second is quite revealing, definitely not meant for the cold. The third is a nice in between; shows skin, but not too much, and would also keep me warm.

"I still think you should pick option two. You won't have to worry about conversation when the girls are on display. They do the talking for you." Tracee expresses.

"Option three it is."

"I'm telling you. He's the type that likes a scantily dressed woman."

"How do you know? Have you asked him what he likes in a woman?" I say, and my face warms up as the memory of last night rushes to the forefront of my mind. He likes a lot of things about me.

"What are we doing for makeup? Are we going for natural? Or glamour?"

"Natural. But a little more effort on the eyes."

"Gotcha."

By one thirty I'm ready to go. Close to the front door is a full length mirror leaning against the wall. My hair is thick and curly and cascades down my shoulders, almost reaching my ass. For me eyes, winged eyeliner is placed over dark red shadow blended with a pretty gold shimmer. I lined my lips with a dark brown pencil, blended out the edges and applied nude lip gloss. Option three outfit goes very well with my makeup look. A long sleeved red dress with a plunging neckline, teasing a view of my breasts. It's form fitting and stops just above my knees. An off white swing coat covers my arms and reaches to my ankles; it would fare well in keeping my legs warm. The black booties on my feet are my favorite and my most comfortable.

"You should put on more bling." Tracee suggests but I'm just fine with my simple gold hoops.

"He'll be here soon," my eyes catch the clock over the kitchen sink- a quarter to two. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"No your fucking not. You're just nervous. I know it's been hard since you broke up with… you know who." She still refuses to say my ex's name. Not that I blame her. Speak of the devil and he shows up.

"I don't want to mess up."

"You're not going to mess up. You'll be fine, just be yourself. He could've picked any girl in the club but he picked you. You want to do a shot? For your nerves?"

"Yes. Please."

Tracee pulls out my favorite Tequila from my liquor cabinet, along with a big thing of Morton Salt. I dab a little salt on the back of my hand and thank her when she hands me my shot. Tracee raises her glass,

"To the Goddess of Sex. Please let my friend get some dick tonight."

"I am not drinking to that."

"Yes you fucking are, cause you need some dick. Now drink." we both laugh and take our shots. By then it's one fifty seven.

"You sure you don't want me to follow you?" Tracee reaffirms as she closes the front door behind her. It's cold, but not unbearable.

"I'm sure. I'll be alright."

"Good luck then." She kisses my cheek and stays put as I descend the stairs.

* * *

I don't know why I feel surprised when I spot Victor. I told him two, and he's right on time. Maybe, subconsciously, I was hoping he'd be late or just not show up at all. I feel like stones are bouncing in my stomach.

"Hey kitten." just the sound of his voice is making my anxiety skyrocket. His amber eyes appraise me, and when he smiles I know he likes what he sees. I definitely like what I see. He's changed clothes. His hair is a little ruffled and unkempt, but in a good way. He's not even wearing a coat, just a black blazer over a very fitting white muscle shirt, dark blue jeans, and dark brown dress shoes. I bite my bottom lip, not sure what to say. Do I compliment his hot appearance?

"Victor." I say instead. You can never go wrong with sweet and simple. He opens the passenger door of a dark red Toyota Supra. The seats are black leather and the scent in here is literally making my mouth water. Whatever cologne he uses reminds me of hickory smoke and some other earthy scents. Once he's in the driver's seat, he grabs my hand and kisses my fingers.

"Where to?"

My mind goes blank and internally I have a full blown panic attack. I was so consumed with what to wear, I didn't plan the actual date. I close my eyes and force my brain to chill the fuck out. I am not going to ruin this date by freaking out.

"Have you been to Navy Pier yet?"

Navy Pier. Even in the cold, there's plenty of people around. This entertainment district stretches along Lake Michigan's shore, for miles and miles. There's plenty of things to do but my first instinct is to grab a Chicago hot dog and ride the Wheel. It's what Tracee, Lily and I always do when we come here. Victor was wary of the hot dog, perhaps due to the array of toppings. "Just try it." I assured him. He took one bite, then ordered three more.

On the Wheel you get a great view of a part of Lake Michigan. I pointed to other places in the city you could see from the Pier. Afterwards, we walked around for about an hour as I told him just about everything you needed to know about Chicago. History, important culture sites, the best places to get deep dish pizza, I could go on for days. Once the sun set I brought him to a great jazz club that Tracee and I frequent. We sit at a table; he orders a whole bottle of Chardonnay, my favorite kind of wine.

"So, you falling in love with Chicago yet?" I ask.

"I'd be completely in love if it weren't so damn windy."

"You get used to that."

"Hm."

At some point we leave the jazz club, but the ride back home is a bit of a blur. I fell asleep, and the next thing I know, I'm being pulled out of the car. My body tries to jolt awake, but I'm god awful tired. Victor is carrying me, he's really warm, considering he's not wearing a coat.

"Kitten, you got to tell me which floor." He says,

"All the way up, to the top." I say groggily. I wrap my arms around his neck, snuggling into his body- he feels like a teddy bear. At some point he asks about my apartment keys. I hand him my clutch and leave him to figure out which key is to my door. Eventually we end up inside. At some point I feel the comfort of my bed. My shoes and coat are removed. I feel a kiss on my forehead, and Victor says something to me, but I don't quite hear the words. At some point I fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

The morning light pours through the arch window, acting as a natural wake up call. I sit up, wiping at my eyes. I almost fall out of bed trying to get out of it and slump my way to the bathroom, all the way downstairs close to my workspace. I use the toilet, then turn on the shower. It takes a couple of minutes for the water to warm up so I brush my teeth and remove my makeup. I'm still in my dress, which I shrug off. I put on a shower cap and step into the hot water. I wash quickly and dry myself off, leaving my bath towel in the bathroom like usual. I head back upstairs naked. As I'm digging through my wardrobe for house clothes, I hear a shuffle...and then a powerful yawn. When I look at my bed, I see Victor sitting up, stretching out his arms. I shriek and use the wardrobe door to shield my nudeness.

"What the fuck are you doing here! How the fuck did you even get in here!" I scream at him.

"Good morning to you too kitten," he yawns. "Don't you remember? You gave me the keys, I carried you up here."

My eyes squint as I desperately try to recall last night. Our last destination was the jazz club, after that I don't really know what happened. Oh my god, did he drug me? But I don't feel violated. But he's in my fucking bed, how did I not notice that?

"Close your eyes, I don't have any clothes on." I demand, but all I get is a flirty smirk.

"I know what a woman's body looks like kitten. No need to be shy."

"Stop calling me that," freaking idiot, "close your eyes already.'' Finally he does as told and I throw on a T-shirt and shorts with extreme haste.

"Okay, I'm dressed."

I close the wardrobe and my jaw goes agape at the sight of a near naked man rising from my bed. All he's wearing is underwear. He's hairy and burly. How on earth did I get a man like this in my home?

"You could've slept on the couch." I say and promptly scold myself in my head. This man brought me home, I don't have to be rude.

"Your bed is warm and inviting," he says as he stalks towards me, "and I asked you Harmony, you gave me permission."

I step back as he approaches, "I did?" why can't I remember? He's very close now, staring down at me with those predatory eyes. I tug at my shirt and shorts, wondering why on earth I chose the tightest t-shirt and the shortest shorts.

"Harmony," Victor speaks, his voice firmer than before. He lifts my chin with a finger, making me look at him.

"Do you want me or not."

My heart feels like it's going to pound out my chest.

"Yes, I want you."

"That's all I wanted to hear." he leans in close and presses his lips to mine.

Victor's kiss wanders away from my lips. I feel him along my mandible, kissing down my neck, nibbling on my shoulder. My whole body is on fire and trembling. I ought to feel excited, but mostly I'm nervous. It's been years, what if I'm not good enough? I can't help the tears welling in my eyes.

"What's wrong kitten?" Victor cups my face with his large hands, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I… I don't know if I can…"

"Kitten. You don't need to worry about anything. Let me take care of you." He lifts me into his arms, carrying me to the bed. I'm lying on my back, his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts.

"Do you trust me?"

I nod my head, "Yes."

He pulls my shorts slowly down my legs. His lips press against my inner thigh. I bite my lip as I feel his kisses trailing closer to my panties. I watch his fangs grab my lace underwear and tug torturously slow down my legs. Eventually I feel his breath close to my clit. When I feel his tongue I grip the sheets as I feel my head spinning.

"Fuck." I groan out.

"You like that?" he doesn't wait for my reply, I feel his tongue again, entering my pussy. The sensation is overwhelming, reflexively I try closing my legs, but he grips by thighs and holds them wide apart. After a few minutes, I feel the heat being sapped away from my limbs and gather in my womb. The heat intensifies until it's too much to bear. I can't believe the sound that comes from me as I feel my pussy spasm.

"Very good kitten." He has my juices all over his mouth, despite that all I can think about is kissing him again. He licks his lips and sucks on his fingers. He stands from his kneeling position; his hard on is blatantly visible through his white briefs. In seconds the briefs are gone, revealing a dark, swollen and rather big cock. He holds it in his hands and gradually pumps himself. All while watching me watch him. He must want me to faint, I don't know how much my brain can process.

"Tell me what you want." he orders. I sit up, staring into dilated amber eyes.

"I want you to fuck me into the next day." It felt good saying it. He growls, a feral sound like an angered lion. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with a single hand. He kisses me again, sticking his tongue into my mouth. I feel his other hand cupping and rubbing my pussy. He eventually lets me go to fondle a breast. I grip his shoulders as he attacks my neck. Without warning I feel his cock thrust into me; I clutch his shoulders tightly and cry out, it wasn't pleasant.

"I'm sorry kitten, I got too excited." He says as he places tender kisses along my forehead.

"Slow." is all I say. Victor, carefully, moves his hips. A low groan escapes his lips,

"You're really tight kitten." He wouldn't change his pace, not until I started moving my hips as well. His body is so close to mine, I can feel his sweat slicking onto me. I feel his breath and groans in my ear. His hips snap into me, making me cry out loud.

"Louder!" he growls in my ear. His cock is pulsing into me so hard and fast, the euphoria of it all makes my mind go numb. I feel the sensation of heat pooling in my womb again, soon I'm digging my nails into his skin as I cum harder than before. My walls spasm, clenching his cock. With a deep guttural groan he cums inside me.

Then all hell breaks loose.

* * *

There's a resounding boom throughout the entire apartment. I can hear the sound of rushing water spouting out of god knows where.

"The Fuck?" Victor snarls, his amber eyes look around confused. I'm scared to look, but I have no choice. Over the balcony I can see the kitchen sink, water is pouring out it like a cut artery, flooding my kitchen floor. I hide my face with my hands. I really just fucking did that. Why did I have to be the one to ruin the moment?

"It's my fault. I lost control of my powers."

"You're a mutant?" He's surprised and has every right to be. I do everything under the sun to keep my powers in check, it's hard enough being a woman and a person of color in this difficult society. But a woman of color that's also a mutant? Mutants, especially, are heavily persecuted. The only one who knows is Tracee, no one else.

"I am, now can you get off."

I put back on my shorts and head downstairs, Victor tailing behind me. The entire kitchen floor has a thin layer of sink water and is leaking onto the living room carpet. I feel like my insides are having a parade inside me, why did this have to happen now of all times! I try to hold it in but the tears come anyway, streaming down my cheeks in thick ugly globs. I can't even cry like a normal person. Victor reaches out to me, but I hold out my arms to keep him away. I don't need comfort. I need to concentrate. I close my eyes and exhale through my mouth. I rarely use my powers, so I don't have a good handle on them. But I know enough to clean up this mess.

It's hard to describe. Even though I'm not physically touching the water, I can feel it as if it's hovering just along my skin. I feel the moisture in the air, the water on the kitchen floor, the pool gathering in the living room, the water rushing through hidden pipes, the river of sewage underneath the street, and even further than that. I press my fingers to my temple, concentrating solely on the spilt water in my apartment. When I open my eyes I smile at the sight of a massive liquid orb floating above the kitchen island. A small stream detaches from the orb, finding its way to the sinkhole, draining itself until nothing is left.

"I did it!" I cheer, turning to Victor. I was about to hug him but I paused at the sight of him still naked and sweaty. My eyes trail from a broad hairy chiseled torso, following the tuft of blonde hair lining down his abdomen and joining the hair at his pelvis. I think a little drool slips out my mouth.

"My eyes are up here, kitten." he snorts. He's certainly amused.

I say the first thing that comes to mind. "You like waffles?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	3. 3

The smell of banana waffles fills the apartment. The stereo blasts Mariah Carey's 'Fantasy' and I sing along to the lyrics while pouring batter into the waffle iron. Victor is in the shower so I'm singing at full volume while wiggling my hips.

"Sweet sweet fantasy baby! When I close my eyes, you come and take me!" I grab the wooden spoon in a bowl half full with batter. I pretend I'm on stage, singing to my non-existent fans.

"It's so deep in my daydreams! But it's just a sweet, sweet fantasy baby! Take it away Mariah!" I dance around my kitchen, letting the music take me away. Despite my little water incident, I feel good. My nether region is a bit sore, but not uncomfortably so. Tracee would be proud of me.

"I'm. In. Heaven. With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend! There's no beginning and there is no end! Feels like I'm dreaming but I'm not sleeping!" I'm in the living room now, dropping it low on the carpet. When I almost fell over I burst into a fit of laughter. Just as I'm dancing back to the kitchen, from my peripheral, I see Victor standing by the stairs. I scream and duck behind the kitchen island. My cheeks are inflamed. Please God, please tell me he didn't see all of that. I hear Victor full on laughing,

"You're a good dancer kitten, and a good singer."

Why couldn't my mutant power be invisibility or shrinking to the size of an atom? How do I keep finding ways to embarrass myself?

The waffle iron timer goes off, so I have no choice but to rise from my hiding spot.

"I'm serious Harmony, you have a lovely voice," I know he's behind me, but I avoid looking at him. "Sing me something."

His big arms wrap around my middle. I was about to refuse but another one of my favorite songs plays on the stereo. One in a million by Aaliyah. My voice is meek at first but music has a way of sending me into a trance. Passive and melodic, I sing the words.

"Baby you don't know, what you do to me. Between me and you, I feel a chemistry. I won't let no one, come and take your place. Cause the love you give, it can't be replaced." The lyrics are intimate and romantic; a wo=man professing her love to a man. When the chorus comes I don't hold back the emotion of her words,

"Your love is a one in a million. It goes on and on and on. You give me a really good feeling, all day long." I feel the tears brewing and I have to stop singing to keep from crying. The last time I sang this song was to my ex. I thought I told Tracee to take it off my mixtape.

"You're too sensitive kitten." Victor says, placing a thumb on my cheek, wiping away a tear.

We sit on stools placed around the island. I made ten waffles, figuring I'd freeze some for other mornings, but Victor takes nine out of the ten.

"You're going to eat all of that?" I say, watching him pour maple syrup over his nine waffles. He doesn't respond, instead stuffing his mouth full. Ten minutes later and his plate is clear while I'm still picking at my waffle. I've never been a big eater.

"I can finish that." he says, reaching over and taking my waffle. My god, no wonder he's so big. When he's done I wash both our plates out and clean up the kitchen.

"Do you work tonight?" Victor queries

"Yeah," I think today is some guy's bachelor party and he booked all the VIP rooms. "Why do you ask?"

"Can I walk you home again?"

"I don't see why not."

"Can I sleep over again."

"W-why?"

Victor frowns but he doesn't look upset, "You don't want anymore dick?"

My face heats up, why does he have to be so blunt? "That's like telling a thirsty man he doesn't want water."

"Oh, you're thirsty for it?" Victor bares his fangs and spreads his thighs, unbuttoning his pants.

"I am _not_ fucking in my kitchen." I cross my arms; my eyes can't look away as he pulls out his cock.

"Come here kitten," he beckons, and my dumbass listens. He holds my hands, rubbing his thumbs along my palms.

"You ever gave a blowjob?"

Suddenly my mouth is salivating, "No."

"It's simple, kitten, I'll walk you through it," I look at his dick, like really look at it. It's already purple and engorged, little veins jut out along its shaft. I don't know how this thing fit inside me.

"Don't be intimidated, take your time." he says,

"I'm not intimidated." I'm one hundred percent intimidated. I hold onto his thighs, the size of actual logs, to keep from kneeling. If I had to completely kneel, I wouldn't reach what I wanted.

"Take it in your mouth, just the tip,"

I do as told. It's warm and fleshy in my mouth.

"Good. Now go a little deeper," drool is escaping my lips as I take more of it. My tongue feels his tip and reflexively licks.

"Yes, do that again," my tongue massages his tip, I begin leisurely bobbing my head along his shaft. I could only fit half of it in my mouth without gagging, but Victor doesn't seem concerned about that. In fact his hands claws are digging into my counter top (that better not leave scratches) and his head is tilted back.

"You're a fucking liar, you have done this." he moans. As I focus, I have that feeling of water close to my skin. I close my eyes, and to my utter astonishment, I can feel the semen inside of him gradually building up inside him. With a little more focus, I force the build up to slow. After some time passed, I noticed the effect. He starts growling and shivering,

"What the fuck?" his voice is wanton and desperate. I feel his cock quivering in my mouth, making me lose focus, and in a heartbeat I feel a surge of fluid filling my mouth. Victor creates a sound between a deep moan and an erotic yowl. I pull away, coughing. I quickly grab a towel and spit the rest of his semen into it.

"What the hell did you do?" He's breathing hard, there's cracks in my counter from his gripping.

"You fucked up my island!" I complain.

"Baby, you're gonna get fucked if you don't tell me what you just did." his eyes are dilated, the amber completely eclipsed by black. A low growl sits in his throat. What the hell is wrong with him?

"I did what you told me to."

He stands and lumbers over to me, his height is towering and there's no escape as he blocks me into the stove. Suddenly he's licking my face like a dog.

"Victor, what the hell!" when I push at his chest he grabs my ass and lifts me up, sitting me on top of the stove. The growl is still there as he lips clasp onto mine. It's not like before, there's nothing sweet about it. His hands pry my legs apart and I feel his cock hardening on my lower abdomen. When he finally breaks the kiss, I don't even get a chance to argue. His hands grab my breasts roughly and I let out a lecherous moan. I don't want to fuck on my stove, but I also want him to keep going. God must be watching out for me, because a loud knock from my front door halts Victor's progression. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him possessively as he snarls, like a wild cat.

"Victor, I need to answer that." I say carefully. I don't know why he's had a sudden change in personality. He stares at me, like a predator would at prey. I grab his arms and slowly untangle myself from his embrace. My movements are deliberate and slow.

"Stay here. And put your dick away."

I unbolt the front door and crack it open. Tracee is there, balancing a large black duffel bag, two takeaway coffee cups and Chinese takeout from our favorite Chinese restaurant. Great, more food.

"Open the freaking door, my balls are freezing out here." before I comment that she doesn't have balls, she shoves past me. I close the door and take the coffee tray from her.

"Uh, Tracee."

"You won't believe how packed the subway was today."

"Tracee."

"And guess who I ran into on my way here? Fucking Donald, remember that asshole?"

"Yeah, I remember him."

"That fucker is as dumb as a doornail. I swear, the lights are not on up there-" Tracee finally notices Victor, leaning against the kitchen stove with a brooding expression.

"Oh." She instantly turns to me, her eyes filled with confusion.

Her voice drops into a whisper, "What's he doing here?"

"He slept over."

"So you guys?"

"...Yes, Tracee."

"And?"

"He wants to sleep over again."

"You sly bitch!" she yells. I have to control the urge to slap my hand over her mouth. "Why is his shirt off? You look a little disheveled... did I interrupt something?" her lips form a smug grin.

"No." Yes.

* * *

We sit around the island, cartons of chicken fried rice, beef udon noodles, crab rangoons, and fortune cookies splayed out on the surface. Tracee doesn't question the cracks in the counter, which I'm thankful for. That's not a story I'm ready to tell. Victor hasn't said a word since Tracee arrived; I still think he's calming down from earlier. I didn't touch any of the food, as I'd eaten not even half an hour ago. Victor, however, still has room in his stomach as he chows down fried rice.

"Lily told you about the bachelor party tonight, right?" Tracee says,

"Yeah."

"Do you know who the bachelor is?"

"No. Probably some rich asshole if he can afford to rent out the Boss's club for a night."

"He's not just any rich asshole. You remember a long time ago, when we all had to go home early because some guy named Fisk showed up at the club?" I remembered that night with perfect clarity. I'd never seen the Boss so upset. Fisk, some rich mobster from New York, showed up unannounced and with a lot of back up.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well Fisk has a son and his fiancee is a Chicago native apparently. Lily told me they're getting married here too." I guess this means I have to look extra presentable tonight.

"You know anything about this Victor?" I ask. He's chewing on udon noodles and a rangoon at the same time.

"That's why I'm here."

"You're protecting Fisk's son?" I say,

"Do you understand who Wilson Fisk is?" he says. Tracee and I shake our head.

"He's _the_ crime lord of New York. They call him 'Kingpin'. That's who I'm protecting your boss from."

"But… Why would someone like that have it out for him?" I say.

"And if he doesn't like the Boss why is the man's son having a party at Gentlemen's Paradise." Tracee adds.

"Heh, you seriously don't know what kind of business Reginald is involved in. Well, it's not my place to say if he doesn't want you to know."

After finishing off the rest of the food, Victor took off. But not before placing a wet kiss on my forehead and pinching my ass. The second he's out the door Tracee pulls me to the couch in the living room.

"Girl. You know you have to give me details."

"I'm not telling you shit."

"Did he eat you out, please tell me he eats pussy."

"Tracee, I'm not-"

"Did you suck his dick?"

"Know what- you're just rude."

She smiles like a crazed woman, "You sucked his dick!"

"Yes he went down on me."

"You're not denying it! I didn't even know you were into that kind of shit."

"Just because you have to tell me what happens to you during sex, doesn't mean I have to."

"Okay, so how big is he." she completely ignores that comment.

"I mean, he's big I guess. Kind of hurt at first but... it was nice."

"Damn. You don't understand how proud I am of you. After you know who, I didn't think you'd ever trust men again."

"I barely know Victor, Tracee."

"Baby girl. You've allowed this man into your space and you're letting him come back again. And the way he was looking at you earlier… I think he likes you a little more than you think."

"You think so?"

"And I think you like him more than you think, but that's none of my business. Wanna smoke ganja before we gotta get ready for tonight?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	4. 4

The Boss named his club Gentlemen's Paradise because his uncle, someone he'd looked up to, had dreamed of opening up a club with the same name. It was the largest strip joint in Chicago and not for meager spenders. It's a place where affluent men gather to watch pretty women dance on poles and remove their clothes, to drink, to party, and more depending how well you know the Boss.

For the most part, the club is fun and I've rarely had terrible experiences. But there's something about today. Despite the upbeat music and joyous chatter, there's an invisible tension. From the bar, you can see inside all four VIP sections. Room one through three were filled with younger men, room two contains the bachelor and his close friends and a brother. Room four, however, is occupied by the Kingpin, the Boss and Victor. Wilson Fisk is an impossible man to miss. He makes Victor look like a house cat in terms of sheer size. He's got a bald head and deep set eyes. A white and black attire suit and golden cane complete his look for the night.

"No wonder the Boss needs protection." Tracee had said to me when she caught sight of the Kingpin. I'm on my way back upstairs, squishing through the crowd, when a man suddenly grabs my wrist. We're close to the stage and it's so loud, I can't hear what he's saying. Eventually he leans in close,

"You give lap dances?"

I'm not supposed to, but the Boss has yet to complain about it, and I never refuse opportunities to make extra money.

"sixty bucks. A hundred if you want me to sit on your lap." I feel paper squished into my hand. I count five twenties.  
"This way sir." I grab his hand and lead him to one of the couches along the wall of the club. It's next to the bar and opposite of VIP. I push the man onto the couch; he's okay looking. Not ugly but I wouldn't call him handsome.

"You want a quiet experience? Or you want a conversation?" you'd be surprised how many men like to talk while getting a lap dance.

"Don't have to talk if you don't wanna." the man says, and I agree. Jerry the DJ is playing Prince's "Kiss". I sway my hips to the song, when it hits the chorus I bend over showing off my ass and drop low, sensually rising to my feet. Fortunately I chose to wear a black jumpsuit. Skin tight on my breasts and hips, and flares out around my legs. I turn to the guest, swaying before him, touching my breasts and running my hands down my abdomen. I cup my pussy, the motion quick and teasing. The man is enamored, based on the soldier trying to break free from his dress pants.

Just as I'm about to sit on his lap, I'm roughly grabbed by the shoulder.

"The fuck you think you're doing Harmony." my heart stutters as Victor growls in my ear.

"Hey man, you're gonna have to wait your turn." the man says and regrets every word as Victor roars in his face.

"You'd better tuck tail and run before I fuck you up." the beast snarls. The man doesn't hesitate. I force my arm out of his grip and cross my arms.

"What is wrong with you!"

"You're supposed to be upstairs, not shaking your ass for men."

"He gave me a hundred bucks!"

"I don't give a flying fuck!"

Victor's amber eyes are flashing like a solar storm. What the hell is he so mad about?... and then it occurs to me.

"You're jealous." when his lips set in a straight, firm line I know I'm right. We're not even together; he has no reason nor the right to tell me what to do with other men. But I can't help the warmth blooming in my chest as I think about what Tracee told me. 'I think he likes you more than you think.'

"Give me a lap dance." Victor finally speaks. He grabs my hand and sits on the couch. He's wearing a blood red pinstripe suit with dark shawl lapels. Underneath is a black, fitting turtleneck. A gold chain hangs loose around his neck. His legs are spread apart and his arms hang over the couch. He's giving me all the alpha male vibes.

"Sixty bucks. One hundred if you want me to sit on your lap." I say; whether he likes it or not I'm still working.

"You want money," he reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out his wallet and proceeds to hand it to me,

"Take out however much you want."

Is he fucking serious? I open his wallet and see a whole wad of Benjamin Franklin's stashed in crocodile leather. What kind of dude walks around with this much cash? I grab six out of at least twenty Franklin's and hand him back his wallet. I stuff the cash on the side of my right breast, where it would stay put until I could put it away in my purse. I almost laugh at the song playing now. 'Pony' by Ginuwine.

I sway my hips to the music, more sensual than before. Most men like to ease into it, Victor wanted me on him right now. He grabs my hands and pulls me on his lap. My back is pressed against his torso. I bend over as much as I could and move my hips with the beat. He's staring at my ass and grabs my waist grinding me onto his hard on. A moan escapes my lips and that little sound doses fuel on his desire. He grabs my hair, pulling me to his chest, and with a feral snarl kisses me deep. When he breaks away, I almost start laughing.

"You gonna let me go back to work?"

"No." his fangs tease my neck.

"Victor, you can't keep me hostage."

"I paid for this."

"You act like you won't get more later." that seems to please him. He releases me, slapping my ass as I stand up. I suck my teeth at him; that hit kind of hurt.

"You behave yourself, kitten. Don't make me have to gut someone." he says. If any of these horny ass men were paying attention, they would see that I'm no longer on the market.

"Yes, daddy, I'll behave myself." I say and smile when his eyes dilate at being called daddy.

* * *

Lily and I are in room two, cleaning up used glasses and empty liquor bottles. The men are drunk and are busy watching the Fairies' pole dance routine. Lily peers into a glass and makes a disgusted face,

"Is that a tooth?" She shows me the glass. Low and behold, someone lost a molar.

"We don't ask questions, hun. We just serve the alcohol." I say. We both carry buckets back to the bar. Tracee is there, grabbing both buckets.

"How's it going up there? The guys playing nice?" She inquires,

"So far so good," Lily replies, "one dude almost threw up on me though. Thank God there's toilets upstairs."

"What about you Harmony? I noticed you and your man earlier." Tracee says,

"What! You got a man Harmony! Since when?" Lily yells.

"He's not my man. We just slept together."

"Oh shit! You finally got some dick!" Lily cries,

"I hate you bitches."

"You see the guy up there, with the blonde hair and red suit, yep, him. That's her man." Tracee says.

"You've been fucking Victor Creed?" Lily says in disbelief. Suddenly my jumpsuit feels too tight.

"Harmony, and I'm saying this with love, be careful around that man."

"Why? Is he a serial killer?" Tracee jokes, but Lily doesn't even crack a smile.

"He's a mercenary." Lily says. When I think about it, I don't know much about Victor. That has to change.

"Hurry with the buckets Tracee, the Boss was clear about running the bills as high as possible." I convey.

So far Lily had been tending to room four, while I tended rooms one and three. We tag teamed room two. As I'm closing the door of room one behind me Lily approaches me.

"The boss wants to see you." she says in passing, rushing a bucket of empty bottles downstairs. Room four is at the end of the hallway; the closer I get to it, the higher my anxiety rises- the Kingpin is in that room. When I'm in front of the door I nod to the Kingpin's men, dressed in all black suits, standing guard. I inhale and exhale for good measure. I enter the room.

"There she is," the Boss says; usually he's cheerful in my presence, but his mood seems off. "Harmony, tell my friend here how many languages you speak."

I have to resist rolling my eyes. This again? I face the Kingpin. He has a fat face and a rotund body, but he isn't ugly like Fat Tom. He's actually rather appealing and seems like the kind of older gentleman who probably has a few sugar babies. He sits alone on the couch and to his opposite the Boss and Victor sit. I notice none of the escort girls are here. And Victor is sitting quietly, his arms crossed and his eyes locked onto me.

"I speak English, French, and German."

"That's an impressive set of skills," the Kingpins voice is rather soft considering how large he is. "What university do you attend?"

Does he think I'm young enough to be a student? That's adorable.

"I didn't go to college. My father was multilingual. He taught me."

"Was?"

"He died when I was a teen. My mother died when I was only a small child. Much of what I know I've had to teach myself."

"We have a similar background, Harmony. I, too, am self-educated. I dropped out of high school."

"Really?" He looks far from a life of hardship. But he's also a gangster; hearing how he became _the_ crime lord of New York is a story I would pay to hear.

"Yes. I taught myself everything I know." Kingpin says.

"I taught myself to paint. I sell my art at local galleries." I say.

"Is that so? I am an art lover as well."

"I don't know how long you're in town, but I'm having an exhibition this Monday at the Hyde Park Art Center, it starts at five and ends at nine."

"I will be here Monday, I will have to attend your event." Kingpin says and smiles; he doesn't seem all that bad.

"I am so sorry gentlemen," Lily is poking her head into the room, "but I really need my other half."

I excuse myself from the room. Immediately, Lily is pulling me towards room one.

"Could you please tell this idiot that we don't serve Irish whiskey? He doesn't want to believe me for some reason, maybe if 'no' comes from two people he'll stop asking."

At midnight, the Bachelor is brought onto the stage via the Fairies. Lily, Tracee, and I watch as he's strapped to a chair and made to watch the Fairies dance around him, discarding the little bits of clothes they have on.

"I hope they get a shit ton of money from this," Tracee says "You girls want to do shots?"

"Yes ma'am." Lily says. Tracee grabs the premium vodka and three tall shot glasses.

"What should we drink to?" she says.

"To the Bachelor's wife. She's somewhere else, probably getting danced on by male strippers." Lily says. We laugh and take our shots.

"Marriage... Doesn't that seem like such a permanent word?" Tracee says.

"I know I'm ready for marriage. I want to have a ring on my finger and a baby in my stomach by my twenty sixth birthday." Lily says.

"You want to be married by next year?" I say.

"I do. If everything goes well with Bryan, I should be getting a ring in a few months." She's been in a relationship with Bryan since the beginning of the year.

"I don't know if I want to be married," Tracee says, "I honestly can't imagine settling down with one man."

"I was supposed to be married." I say.

"Shit, Harmony, I'm sorry. This is a terrible topic." Lily apologizes

"It's fine." but the memory still stings when I think about it.

* * *

By four in the morning, the club is emptying out. Kingpin, the Bachelor and his friends are gone. As I'm cleaning out room two Victor walks in.

"What's up." I say as I'm sweeping near the window.

"Fisk is a dangerous man Harmony," he says, "a very dangerous man."

"And you're any different?" I retort.

"What's that's supposed to mean."

"You're a mercenary, when'd you plan on telling me that?"

"Who told you?"

"Doesn't matter who."

"Why didn't you tell me about your art thing."

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Of course I'm interested. It's important to you."

I pause sweeping as I feel my cheeks warm, "I don't see the problem inviting Fisk to a harmless art show. If you're so concerned for my safety, then you'd better show up," I walk over to him, handing him the broom

"If you're gonna hover around me, you can help me clean up."

At the end of my shift Victor walks me home. It's windy, making the cold factor lower than it's supposed to be. By the time we reach my front door I'm practically a walking popsicle. I fumble with my keys, cursing as my shivering fingers struggle to find the right one. Victor plucks the keys out my hand, finds the house key, and opens the door. It's not much warmer in my apartment. I usually keep the thermostat at a solid sixty seven degrees. I'm one of those people who get too cold or too warm too easily. I kick off my heels and shrug off my coat. My legs are sore from running around all night. Thank god today is Sunday. The club won't open again until Thursday night.

"Make yourself at home. I'm gonna hop in the shower." I say, depositing my purse on the couch.

"Can I join you?" Victor has already removed his suit jacket and black turtleneck. As tempting as the offer is, I'm too tired for sex.

"I really just want to sleep Victor."

"Okay, I understand… can we cuddle?"

"Sure." I chuckle; who'd think a man the size of a grizzly bear would be into cuddling.

Getting ready for bed is a whole process for me. I spend almost two hours in the bathroom: take off makeup, go through skin care routine, brush my teeth, shower and shave my legs, oil my scalp and moisturize my hair, brush and detangle my curls, and lastly put on pajamas to go to sleep. When I go upstairs, Victor is knocked out on my bed, wearing only black briefs. Guess I wasn't the only one dog tired.

After slipping on a silk night dress I get in bed and snuggle close to him. Somehow he senses me in his sleep, he wraps burly arms around me and holds me close. He smells like earth and smoke, and is very warm- too warm in fact. I'm building up a sweat. But he's so cozy, the heat doesn't matter and eventually I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	5. 5

"What the fuck is tea time?" Victor says before sticking five pieces of bacon in his mouth. We sit at the kitchen island, eating breakfast.

"You don't know what tea time is?" I say as I nibble on buttered toast. "I have it with my neighbor every Sunday. She's an old woman and her kids don't come around often so I keep her company now and then. She's turning a hundred in two days."

"Her old man not around?" he shovels down a mountain of scrambled eggs.

"He passed away five years ago… you plan on buying me more groceries?" I've gone through all my eggs, bacon, milk, orange juice, and bread just to feed this man.

"I'll buy anything you want." he says while stuffing toast in his mouth. Where does all that food go? Surely it's not all fitting in his stomach. He picks up my last pint of orange juice and chugs it, then lets out a loud belch.

"I won't be around today, kitten. I have to attend a few places with Reginald."

"Okay." I don't know why I feel disappointed. We're not together, he has no obligation to stay with me.

"Don't make that face, babe. Your boss is paying me a shit ton of cash to keep the Kingpin from wringing his neck but I don't have to be around him all the time."

"And when that's all over?" from what I know, mercenaries work anywhere. They don't have a permanent home. Victor stands, coming over to me and plopping his hands on my shoulders.

"I appreciate our time together, Harmony. But I am not the kind of man you want for the long run. Wild animals can't be tamed."

"You're not an animal Victor."

"Baby. I've learned to control myself when I need to. But sometimes I can't. You don't want to be around me when I can't," he kisses me on the forehead. "Don't worry, kitten. You'll see me again."

* * *

I sit on a stool, staring at the incomplete canvas before me. I mix a hint of obsidian black with ultramarine blue and dab gently on the painting with a small brush. Ms. Jenkins had short, coily hair like a sheep's coat. Creating hair texture has always been my favorite part of portrait painting, yet, instead of enjoying the process I can't stop thinking about what Victor said. Not that I had any high hopes of us being in a long term relationship, but does he think that he isn't worthy of it? He has sharp canines and claws. He's always snarling and growling like a big cat. There's also that moment in the kitchen, when he licked at my face- that was a particularly weird moment for me. Despite all that, his actions are relatively tame. Whatever bad side he speaks of, he either won't show me or has yet to do so. I dip my brush in water, rinsing away the paint and wiping the excess off on a used cloth. I head upstairs to get dressed, leaving the portrait to dry. I throw on a pair of jeans, a long black sleeved shirt, and a simple jean jacket. I put on long boots, but not before grabbing a stash of butter cookies from the pantry- Ms. Jenkins loves butter cookies.

Ms. Jenkin's apartment is almost identical to mine, except it has less square space and there's no second level. The front door was open and she sat at a small dining room table, the tea set already splayed out on the surface.

"It's good to see you Harmony." she says in her silvery voice.

"Good to see you too Ms. Jenkins."

As we drink lemon ginger tea and munch on red velvet cupcakes and cookies, I tell Ms. Jenkins about my week. I tell her about Victor and what he said to me this morning.

"Most men have issues with commitment. It all stems from fear. This Victor is afraid of showing his true self to you. Afraid you will reject him for what he is."

"But… what if I don't like that side of him." I say.

"You will not know what you are willing to accept if he is not open. If he's truly developing feelings for you, he will pursue you. If this is just a temporary relationship, then I would not fret about what he keeps from you. Now, if you would be so kind as to pass the butter cookies."

After tea time I journey out into the cold afternoon, walking swiftly to the closest bus stop. This residential street is usually empty of people this time of year. The few people I do see are moving fast, trying to get out of the cold as soon as possible. I walk by a front porch, passing an older woman sitting and smoking a cigarette. Her light eyes smile at me and I nod back in greeting. Since moving to Chicago as a young child, I have had a far better life compared to rural Mississippi. You'd never think I was born in the South of the states. I don't have the accent. I don't even remember much about living there, just the bad memories of why my father and I had to flee. When I reach the bus stop, I'm surprised to see a group of people crowded around in a circle. The closer I get, the more I realize there's something wrong.

"You've got some nerve coming out here, mutie." a grown man, about my height, with a big gut and balding black hair spat.

"Please. I'm just here visiting my sister. I don't want any trouble." as I come closer, I get a glimpse of the person being surrounded. He has indigo skin that seems concealed in shadow despite the sunlight. His eyes are a glowing yellow moonstone, he has sharp canines. If that doesn't give away he's a mutant, then his long tail ,with a pointed arrow head at the end, definitely gives it away.

"We don't tolerate your kind here." the big gut man says. Partially, he's right. Even though there's a small population of mutants living in Chicago, the city is split on their presence here. Half the city doesn't really care and the other half wants them gone.

"I just said I'm visiting my sister. I don't live here. Once the New Year has passed, I go back home to Germany."

"You're a fucking Nazi!" another guy, with broad shoulders and a thick red mustache yells. Clearly this is getting out of hand.

"Don't you gentlemen have better things to do than harass people." I say, crossing my arms. They all look at me.

"This doesn't concern you, woman." the red mustache man says.

"As long as you continue to harass this man, it is my concern."

"Hey, doesn't she work for Reginald?" a man with dark eyes and awfully pale skin speaks, "I've seen her at the club before. Shit. You remember the last time we messed with his employees."

The red mustache man grit his teeth and made one last sour face at the indigo mutant. "You get out of here ASAP, you here mutie?" with that said the group continued on down the sidewalk. I didn't even know Reginald kept an eye out for us. That's something I'll have to thank him for.

"Thank you so much, madam. You came at the right time." the indigo man thanks.

"Bitte schön." I say and smile as the stranger's eyes light up.

"You speak my language?" he says in German.

"I do."

"My name is Kurt Wagner. Please, you must allow me to return your kindness. If you are free this evening I would love to invite you to dinner with my family."

"Sure! I wouldn't mind. Do you live close by? I live in a unit a block from here."

"You see that red house? At the end of the intersection? Yes, that one. That's my sister's house. We have dinner at eight o'clock. I would be honored to see you there, um-"

"Harmony."

"Harmony. A beautiful name."

My face warms up. When I really look at Kurt, he's rather good looking. A strong jawline and defined cheekbones. Slightly plump lips. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of a black leather jacket covering a thick white sweater; fitted blue jeans and converse complete the look.

"Where are you off to, if I may ask?" he inquires.

"I'm going to the Hyde Park Art Center. I'm having an exhibition there tomorrow. You can come by if you have time, it starts at five and ends at nine."

"You're an artist! God has truly blessed me with a unique presence," Now I'm full on blushing. "Please. You must allow me to escort you there. It is too cold to travel that far,"

I tilt my head in question. Does he have a car? If he does, then why wait at the bus stop? He gently grabs my hand and smiles,

"It'll only take a second." he says.

I blink and when I open my eyes I'm in front of the art center. My mouth drops open.

"How! What!" I don't even know what words to say.

"It is my mutant power. I have the ability to transport to any destination I have been to or can see." he says. I stare at him in astonishment. I've never heard of a mutant that could do that kind of shit.

"That's fucking amazing!" I blurt out.

"Danke," he says as he passes his hand through short cobalt blue hair. He's wearing black gloves, but the fit seems off for some reason.

"It was god's gift to meet you Harmony. I look forward to seeing you again this evening." with that said he disappears in a puff, leaving behind wisps of smoke and a faint scent of brimstone.

* * *

Tracee meets me at Uno's for deep dish pizza. The restaurant is located about forty minutes from the art center and if you come before the dinner rush you can get a seat by the window overlooking the Chicago River. We sit opposite of each other, working on a veggie meat medley deep dish pizza.

"I met someone this afternoon." I say, poking my fork into my slice.

"You plan on making a harem?" Tracee says with a goofy expression.

"No. It wasn't even that kind of meeting… he invited me to eat dinner with his sister."

"His sister? You sure he isn't making that up just to get you over his house." Tracee says, stabbing a large piece of sausage and sticking it in her mouth.

"He seems very earnest… he was being harassed by some guys that are probably part of the 'Friends of Humanity'" I say, air quoting the title.

"Those assholes. They literally have nothing better to do than to plan the doom of all mutants." she says, shaking her head.

"Yeah… at least I can hide in plain sight. I can't even imagine what he must go through."

"You lived in the deep South, sweetheart. I think you have some inkling of what your friend has been through."

"I only remember a little."

"You remember enough… you remember why your father dragged you hundreds of miles North."

It is an ancient memory, but it's so fresh in my mind, as if it occurred yesterday. I see myself, only four years old, staring at my mother's corpse.

"Let's talk about something else." I say quickly.

After lunch we go back to my apartment. Tracee lives with her three sisters and welcomes any opportunity to sleep over at my place. While she munches on snacks and watches tv, I continue working on Ms. Jenkin's birthday present. Using white paint, I add subtle highlights along her cheekbones, careful not to overdo it. I spend about half an hour rendering the painting, then change clothes for dinner with Kurt and his sister. I go for a natural makeup look, not even applying eye shadow, just eyeliner and my favorite matte cherry red lipstick. I dress in a long fitting black dress with a halter top. I put my hair in a neat bun and stick white pearl studs in my ears. Simple black block heels complete the look.

"Hm. Your friend is gonna want you for dinner if you walk out like that." Tracee says.

"You think it's too much?"

"Of course not babe. You look beautiful. Bring back some leftovers for me, okay."

It took me only a few minutes to reach the red house. It's two stories, connecting to another home on its right, starting a long chain of brick homes. If I remember correctly, these homes were built after World War Two. They've aged well on the outside, the inside has likely gone through multiple renovations to match modern door opens and Kurt smiles widely at the sight of me. He's wearing the same white sweater and blue jeans.

"Harmony! It's nice to see you. And you look absolutely lovely." he greets and urges me inside. I go to take off my shoes but he stops me.

"Don't worry about that. Please, follow me."

I follow behind him, through a narrow hallway. At the end, it opens into a spacious dining room where a long dark wood table is set and has food placed in its center. My mouth starts to water from the smell. Sitting at the head of the table is a young woman, who couldn't be older than twenty five. Long black hair is kept in a low ponytail and cool grey eyes regard me with excitement.

"Allow me to introduce you to my sister, Gloria. Soon she'll be Mrs. Gloria Fisk."

"Fisk?" no fucking way.

"She is getting married this Friday to Richard Fisk, I believe his name is."

"Congratulations." I say with a smile, on the inside, however, I'm screaming.

"Thank you," Gloria says, "Please, have a seat. What would you like to drink? I have this delicious brand of red wine, unless you prefer something else?"

"Red wine is fine with me." I say.

"Any moment now, Gloria's father and her father in law will arrive to join us." Kurt says, and I feel like my heart is going to jump out my chest. The Kingpin is coming here? What on earth have I got myself into?

* * *

I've been in many awkward situations, but this has to take the cake. Gloria and Kurt sit around the table in pure obliviousness. Meanwhile I'm trying not to make eye contact with the Kingpin, the Boss, and Victor. Apparently the Boss is Gloria's adoptive father, hence the reason why he has to tolerate the presence of his enemy. I keep my lips firmly shut and hope I won't have to say a word- until Kurt opens his friendly mouth.

"I must tell you all the story of how I met Harmony!" Kurt exclaims. Clearly he lacks the ability to read the room.

"This I want to hear." the Boss says. He looks like he's seen better days. There's dark circles under his eyes and his skin is kind of pasty, like curdling milk. In my head I'm telling Kurt to shut up, but he doesn't. Victor hasn't said a word since he arrived. And his amber eyes won't stop fucking looking at me.

"I was waiting at the bus stop just a minute from here, and these awful Americans came up to me, spouting mean names. They had me surrounded, and I was fearing for my safety until Harmony intervened. She was so brave, like a guardian angel, and my harassers ran away immediately,"

is that how he interpreted it?

"I was so grateful that I invited her to share in my sister's joy."

"A guardian angel, huh." Victor says aloud, startling me. I glance at him and my face warms up as he grins. I'm officially embarrassed now. I grip my wine glass and take a long sip.

"Kurt. You could have easily fought for yourself." The Boss says, his arms are crossed along his chest.

"I was _actually_ going to teleport out of harm's way, but Harmony showed up. It's nice to know there are people who will stand up for mutants." he says. Little does he know, I'm just like him.

"I'm so thankful someone like you was there for my brother," Gloria says "Because of what he looks like, one way or another he gets into trouble."

"I only did what was right." I say, taking another sip of wine.

"Human or mutant, few have the strength to do what is necessary," the Kingpin conveys; his frost blue eyes are temperate as he regards me . "It is a rare trait, indeed."

"You have the nerve to talk," the Boss intervenes, "A willingness to do what is right and a willingness to do evil are two separate things."

The Kingpin narrows his eyes at the Boss. "Is this some kind of pathetic attempt to make yourself seem more righteous?"

"Please, don't argue my friends," Kurt says, his voice taking on a considerably darker tone. "We are here to celebrate my sister's marriage. Not bring up old grudges."

Save for Gloria and Kurt who talked amongst themselves, we ate in silence. I picked at my plate of mashed potatoes, lemon glazed salmon, and pan seared asparagus. Of course, Victor is on his second plate, shoving down food as if he hadn't eaten all day. Just as I finally decide to stop poking my salmon and actually eat the damn thing, the Kingpin catches my attention.

"I must ask Harmony. How did you come to be in Reginald's employment?"

I see the Boss slightly cringe at being called his birth name.

"Well, my best friend started working there a few years ago. She said the money was really good and the boss was hiring. I didn't really need the extra cash, but I figured why not? I've been able to fill up my savings. Hopefully by the end of the year, I'll be able to open up my own gallery and host exhibitions. If that goes well, it's been my biggest dream to go around the world collecting art to put in my own museum."

"Those are high aspirations." the Kingpin says and there's a strange gleam in his eyes, like I've become an object of interest.

"My father always told me to go after what I want." I say.

"A smart man who raised a smart daughter."

I look down at my plate, abashed by his compliment.

"You never told me about this dream of yours." the Boss conveys.

"You never asked." I respond and regret the words immediately as his lips form a frown.

* * *

Eventually the awkwardness is too much and I excuse myself to the bathroom. The one downstairs is out of order so Gloria directs me to the full bath upstairs, to the right, at the end of the hallway. I don't have to use the toilet, I just stand in front of the sink looking into the mirror. I was hoping this would be a decent evening, but I feel like at any moment the Boss and the Kingpin will go for the other's jugular. And Victor keeps making suggestive eyes at me. Pervert. I take a few seconds to look over my appearance before opening the door. I almost shriek as I'm grabbed and pushed further into the bathroom. Victor closes the door, locking it.

"Take your panties off." straight to the point.

"Have you lost your mind!" I'm trying not to yell, "I'm not fucking in somebody's bathroom."

"I can't come over tonight Kitten. It's now or you'll have to make a Monday night appointment."

" _I_ have to make an appointment? You're the one harassing me."

"Alright, no fucking," he gets on his knees, reaching for the hem of my dress, "But you'll let me eat you out?"

I feel his hands on my calves, gradually sliding up. I bite my lip and mentally curse at myself. Why does he have to be so straightforward? I lean against the bathroom sink, gripping the edges as I feel the skirt of my dress pushed up past my pelvis. His claws pull down my lace panties past my ankles and heels. He bunches the fabric and puts it in his dress pants pocket. I squeak when he hauls my legs over his shoulders, and when I feel his mouth on my pussy it takes everything in me not to make a sound. His breath is warm against my clit as his tongue leisurely flicks the small bud. A low moan escapes my lips, "Yes."

He plunges his tongue inside me, lapping at my walls like a starved man would devour meat. My hands are cramping from clenching the sink so hard. When he starts playing with my clit again, I can't help the spasm that follows. A loud moan slips out; my face feels like it's on fire as I pray to god no one heard that downstairs.

"I ever tell you how good you taste?" Victor says, licking his bottom lip as he stands to his full height. I pull my dress back down and fix my hair.

"No. What do I taste like?"

"Like… candied cherries."

I look over myself in the mirror, "candied cherries? That's really specific."

"My five senses are stronger than a dog's. Every woman has their own distinct taste and smell."

"Nice to know you've had your tongue in other women's' pussies."

"You jealous?"

"I'm not your fucking wife. Why would I be concerned about some other bitch. And give me back my undies."

"Nope. They're my souvenir."

"Victor-"

He opens the door and walks out. Asshole.

The tension at the dinner table seems to have dissipated when I return. Gloria is going through a box of photos, showing her father and her father in law her childhood. I don't know why I feel so nervous. I've gone pantie-less plenty of times before, but knowing Victor has it… My brain keeps coming up with crazy random scenarios, like, what if he throws it on the table like a used napkin. Or what if he takes it out his pocket and inhales it in front of everyone.

"It's getting pretty late. I should get home." I say to Kurt. He walks me to the front door and helps me put on my coat.

"Thanks for the food." I say.

"Bitte schön. I should walk you home." He says.

"It's okay, I literally live a few minutes down the street. I'll be fine." I kiss him on the cheek goodnight and head out into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	6. 6

When I wake in the morning, I don't know why I expect Victor beside me. Tracee is snoozing peacefully. I'd forgotten to bring her food, but fortunately she was asleep when I got home last night. I slip out of bed, making my way to the bathroom. As I'm brushing my teeth, I hear the phone ringing. When the sound stops almost instantly I know Tracee answered the call. I hope it isn't those telemarketer guys again, I'm running out of ways to say 'I'm not interested.'

"Harmony! It's your plug!"

I spit out the toothpaste. What the hell is she talking about? After rinsing out my mouth I hurry upstairs.

"Tracee, stop fucking around." I chuckle, taking the phone from her. She has a big grin on her face- that's enough to make me nervous.

"Yes." I say into the speaker.

"Good morning Kitten." It's Victor's deep, pleasant, voice. I can't help but smile.

"Good morning… how'd you get my number?" I don't remember giving it to him. And he doesn't answer the question.

"Listen babe, I can't talk for long. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, I know how bad you wanted me in your bed last night."

I roll my eyes, "I was weeping all night."

"Poor kitten."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait! Alright, I'll stop messing around. In all seriousness, I just wanted to hear your voice."

My smile grows wider. "That's sweet."

"I have to go now. Be a good kitten." he hangs up. As I'm placing the phone back on its hook, Tracee is glaring at me like a nosy toddler.

"Don't say anything-"

"I wasn't gonna say anything… I just think that-"

"Tracee!"

"I just think that you must have some bomb pussy to keep the man sniffing around."

"Oh my god."

"What?"

After breakfast Tracee and I spend the rest of the morning getting ready for my exhibition. The train ride to the art center is uneventful, and when we arrive the set up crew is there. All of my pieces are carefully mounted on the blank white walls of the hall. By late afternoon everything is as perfect as it can be.

I'm pacing between each of my paintings, checking for the upteenth time if everything is to my standards. I can't help my anxiety rising by the second. If the Kingpin is true to his word, he'll show up and I have a gut feeling Victor is going to show too. Tracee comes up behind me, grabbing my hands.

"Harmony, stop pacing around," she scolds, "Everything is going to be fine."

"I know, I know. It's just...What if-"

Tracee pauses my words with a loud 'tsk'. "Nope, I'm not even going to let you go down the rabbit hole. You need to promise me you're not going to have a panic attack while I'm on greeting duty."

"I won't have a panic attack."

"Good. I swear, sometimes I don't believe we're the same age." she grumbles and takes off to attend her post. I walk around the exhibition hall. It's a decent sized space; large enough to host paintings eight feet tall and ten feet wide. Most of my paintings are no bigger than a standard TV, but some are as tall as a door. There's twelve pieces in the collection; the theme is metamorphosis. I stand before my largest painting, depicting a woman emerging from a butterfly cocoon, her skin gold and radiant like the sun.

By six o' clock the hall is crowded with people. Most come to admire the art. I've never sold all of them in one night, but I always manage to sell them later on. Five potential buyers have already approached me about some of the paintings. Just as I finish talking to another potential buyer, a familiar voice catches my attention.

"I apologize for being late," my heart picks up in pace as the Kingpin comes forward. He's holding a bouquet of pink and white roses. "I must say, Harmony. These canvases are the work of a genius." as he hands me the flowers, I feel my cheeks warm. The beautiful bloomed roses are a bit old fashioned, but flattering.

"Thank you. Are you interested in any of them?" I say, trying to keep my business face.

"I am. In fact, I would like to purchase the entire collection."

…

The noise around me is drowned out by the sound of my internal screaming, "what?" Maybe I heard him wrong.

"How you've portrayed the various forms of metamorphosis… I have never seen anything like it."

Holy fucking fuck.

"You are aware of how much this will cost you?" the entire collection is worth ten thousand dollars.

"I am aware."

Suddenly I feel light headed. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" I don't wait for his reply as I hastily walk towards the main reception area. Tracee is by the door and low and behold she's talking to Victor. He decided to come after all. When he sees me his eyes light up; he's also holding a bouquet of flowers, deep red carnations with hints of baby's breath, and a small white gift bag stuffed with red tissue paper.

"Hello kitten." he says sweetly; I feel my anxiety mellow out. I embrace him, wrapping my arms around his middle. He always smells the same; earth and smoke.

"These are for you." he hands me the flowers and the bag.

"Thank you."

"Who gave you the roses?"

"Wilson Fisk."

His eyes narrow, " _He_ actually came."

" _He_ just bought my entire collection." I say with a smug smile.

Tracee's jaw drops, "Hold up. I don't think I heard you right. Did you just say-"

"Fisk bought every single painting in the exhibit!" I yell; the anxiety is gone and replaced with pure excitement.

"Was the transaction complete?" Victor conveys. His thick brows are scrunched together,

"Well, no-"

"Whatever he's paying, double it."

* * *

Linda, the director of the art center, is silent as she searches through countless rules and regulations of the center, all compiled into one massive binder. Tracee and I sit in cushioned chairs before her desk, waiting. Apparently it's been decades since a single person bought out a collection from a single artist, but for two people to be interested in the same thing? Linda is sweating bullets.

"Aha! I found it!" she guides her finger along the page as she reads aloud, "Article two hundred and six. Should two parties be in conflict over the buying of a piece, and there is not a complete or pending money transaction in place, the piece in question shall be auctioned to the highest bidder. In our case, we will have to do this for your entire collection."

Linda pushes her glasses up with a finger as she stares at me with confused brown eyes.

"Who on earth have you been talking to Harmony?" she queries.

"To two rich men, it seems to me." Tracee says.

"They do understand how much money-" Linda begins but I interrupt her with a raised hand.

"Linda. They know."

"Alright. Well, the rules say it clearly. Unless there are any other potential buyers, I will host a private auction between your… companions. The highest bid will receive your work. As you know, the center will take ten percent. After taxes are deducted the rest of the amount is yours."

The event continues until nine. Kurt came by with his sister which excited me, but they didn't stay for long. The wedding is four days away and he had to escort her to rehearsals. After the hall is empty, Linda brings the Kingpin and Victor into a seperate area. Tracee and I help the clean up crew, even though there isn't much to clean up. I wanted to listen in on the auction, but Linda suggested against it, considering I personally know the buyers.

"You want to grab a bite to eat? This might take some time and I know you're hungry." Tracee says.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Can we go to the Jamaican Palace? I really want curry goat."

Tracee hooks her arm around mine, "I was thinking the same thing babe. Great minds think alike."

When we get back to the art center, Linda is standing in the reception area with the Kingpin. She's smiling really wide and shaking his hand with a bit too much rigor. When she spots me, she literally starts yelling,

"100,000 dollars!" she runs up to me, throwing her arms around my neck, "You just made a 100,00 fucking dollars! Excuse my French!"

I feel like there's ice rushing through my veins; there's no way I heard that correctly. I slap my hand over my mouth, I think I'm going to vomit. Tracee's expression is shocked, she can't even find something witty to say.  
"That can't be right." I finally say.

"It is right." The Kingpin approaches us.

"The collection is only worth ten thousand, that's way too much, I can't accept-"

"You do not see what I see Harmony," he interrupts, "I have a talent for seeing the potential in people, and you, sweetling, are worth my investment. Take the money. You will hear from me again." He strolls out of the art center, as if he hadn't just spent a fortune.

"So I guess that means Victor lost." Tracee remarks,

"Oh, he was furious!" Linda adds, "He stormed out about half an hour ago,"

I hope he isn't upset at me.

"Why don't you head home Harmony, you look exhausted. I'll handle everything else. When the money comes through I'll call you, okay?"

Taking Linda's advice, Tracee and I make our way to the subway. It's late and there's few people hanging about. The train car we get into is empty, no one else boards. I take a seat, setting my flowers and gift bag to the right of me, but Tracee prefers standing, holding onto the metal rail above her head. My brain is still trying to comprehend what had happened. This morning, I expected maybe to sell two or three paintings. But every single painting is sold, the entire collection selling for ten times its worth. It doesn't feel real.

"You okay Harmony? You look kind of sick?" Tracee presses the back of her hand to my forehead.

"I just don't know what to make of this. Why would Kingpin throw away that much money? It doesn't make any sense."

"You think the money could be fraudulent?"

"No," he doesn't strike me as that kind of mobster. I know his money is legit. "He said he sees potential in me… I think I'm scared, Tracee."

"If it bothers you that much, then don't take it." Tracee suggests. It seems like the easy thing to do. Why take money from a man I don't trust? Especially a man who runs the underground of New York City, and probably a few other places for all I know. But with that amount of cash, I could lease out a large space for my gallery. Hell, I could actually start planning for my dream museum. Everything I've ever wanted is only a transaction away.

"Look babe," Tracee takes the seat beside me, she holds my cold hands and rubs them soothingly, "You remember the last time I got my hands on a load of cash?" years ago, Tracee's parents died in a car accident. They made income privy to the upper middle class, and left behind hefty life insurance. At the time, the money was entrusted to Tracee, as her sisters were too young for it to be split between the four of them. The best thing she did with it was buy a sizable house on the nicer side of Chicago and set aside money for future college tuitions. But the remaining, and there was plenty remaining, she blew it all on a five month trip to Europe. She'd lived like a queen, and upon returning to the States immediately had to go back to work.

"All I can say is, if you do decide to keep the money, don't spend it frolicking on Sicilian beaches."

Tracee gets off the train at the next stop and I remain for another three stops. Walking at night has never bothered me before, and my street is typically quiet, but I keep staring over my shoulder as if someone is going to leap out of the shadows and demand the hundred thousand dollars I don't even have yet. When I reach my apartment, Lennie, the landlord, is standing at the bottom of the steps. His withered hands are sunk deep in his trench coat pockets and a blunt rests between his lips. His black eyes are sunken, the dark freckles along his nose bridge twist and morph along brown wrinkled skin.

"Good evening, Lennie." I say. He takes the blunt out of his mouth, holding the short bud in between his fingers. He always looks tired due to a bad case of insomnia.

"Good evening to you too, Harmony." he greets in a gravelly voice.

"Can't sleep?"

"What gave it away?" He takes a puff from his blunt.

"What did you dream about?"

"I wish I could say tits and ass, but it's the same shit over and over." Lennie had served in Vietnam for the entirety of the Vietnam War; he was one of thousands of soldiers who came home not quite right in the head. Sometimes, when walking home from the club, I would catch him pacing outside on the sidewalk, as if in a trance. From a distance I would try coaxing him out of whatever scene was replaying in his head. And on the nights that didn't work I would leave him be.

"Don't stay out here too long, alright? It's supposed to snow later."

He waves me away and I continue up into the building, going up three flights of stairs.

As I fumble for my keys, balancing two bouquets of flowers and a gift bag in one hand, Victor comes to mind. He left without saying goodbye. Does he feel embarrassed about losing to the Kingpin? He doesn't strike me as someone that's easily embarrassed. He made it as clear as day that he wasn't looking for a relationship, so why go through all the trouble? I shake my head as I continue pushing the key into the main lock. And men say women are confusing. Once inside, I shrug off my coat and stumble out my heels. I place the flowers on the kitchen island and decide to go through the gift bag. Inside is a slim, square, black box. I turn it in my hands; there's isn't a brand name or anything indicating what could be inside. I open the box and gasp. The sleek gold chain shimmers in the light, and in the center is a heart shaped pendant with 'Harmony' engraved in neat cursive. There's a slip of paper tucked underneath the pendant. My heart quickens in pace as I unfold it.

_For my special little kitten._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There is a short part in this chapter that deals with sensitive issues involving racial terrorism and child abuse. It isn't incredibly graphic, but just so you know.

I'm roused from my sleep in the middle of the night from loud knocking. I drag myself out of bed, slumping down the steps towards the front door.

"Who is it?" I say with a big yawn.

"It's me Harmony." I unlock the door and open it enough to peek through. Victor is standing there. I open it wider, shivering from the cold entering my home.

"It's really late Victor."

"Are you gonna let me in?"

I turn to the side, letting him walk through.

"We need to talk."

"Seriously? It's like four in the morning, I'm going back to sleep."

"Harmony. I wouldn't have woken you up if I didn't think this is important."

I shut the door and fold my arms over my chest. What could be so important that he barges in during the graveyard shift? As he takes off his coat and shoes, I head to the kitchen putting water into a kettle for tea. He sits at the kitchen island, waiting for me to finish making chamomile tea for the both of us. Once I'm settled in a stool beside him, he begins. His hands are folded together on the counter as he focuses on me.

"You can't accept the Kingpin's money."

I almost spit out my tea, "Wha- are you crazy!"

"Hold on, here me out. I know this man, Harmony. There's no way he'd dish out that much cash if he didn't expect something in return."

"His return is my entire collection. Beyond that, there's nothing about me he could use. Unless he wants another collection. I'm an artist, that's all I know."

"Baby, you're not listening to me-"

"Why are you doing this?"

His eyes narrow, "What do you mean?"

"Why do you care? Whatever happens to me has nothing to do with you."

"Do you not want me to care? Cause that's what this feels like." His voice is rising.

"I'm just trying to understand why you think Kingpin has some sinister agenda for me."

"He's planning something, I know it-"

"Is he gonna make me into his sex slave or something, cause that's all I can think of."

"Harmony, this is not the time to joke around."

"You're the one being ridiculous."

"You have no idea what you're up against."

"I'm well aware of who Wilson Fisk is-"

"You have no fucking clue who Wilson Fisk is-"

"Then fucking enlighten me!"

Victor bares his teeth, slamming his hand on the island. I gasp and reel back, almost falling out of my stool.

"Shit, Harmony, I'm sorry," he reaches out to me, but I shrink away from his touch. "Please Kitten, please, don't give me that look, you don't have to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Everything in me wants to kick him out; instead I stand farther from him.

"I've told you before," he continues in a calmer tone, "Fisk is not to be fucked with. He's dangerous, and one way or another he'll drag you into his world. I know his world, I've lived in it damn near all my life. You could get hurt, or worse."

"I swear Victor," I scoff, "You must think I'm the Madonna incarnate. Believe it or not, I have a past. I'm no saint."

I grasp the mug on the island top, wrapping my hands around its body. I stare into the cup, staring at the hints of tea leaves seeping from the bag. The heat on my hands, the heat rising from the cup, the tension between Victor and I; it brings me back to an old memory.

"... When I was four years old, I lived in Mississippi, deep in Mississippi, the part that seems disconnected from the rest of the state, like it's own little world stuck in the past. My father was a mechanic and my mother was a seamstress. We lived in a little cottage in the woods, not too far from town, but far enough that we had no close neighbors. After my fourth birthday the local Klan started harassing us.

They'd threatened us for weeks. A burning cross on the lawn. Explicit images of people who look like me, mutilated and bloody, left in our mailbox. Throwing rocks through our windows. And other bad things. We didn't have a lot of money and both my parents were estranged from their families. We couldn't just leave, but my father was making a plan to move out. One day, the Klan decided to act on their threats. My father wasn't home, he had just left for work. My mother and I were playing on the front porch when they came…

It was really hot that day, that's why we were outside, cause our little house had no air conditioning. Trucks pulled into the lawn. Grown men, not even hiding their faces, came at us. One grabbed my mother by her hair, dragging her down the steps. They beat her to death. And then they tried to do the same to me,"

I can't even look Victor in the eyes as I tell my story,

"That's when I learned I was a mutant. When my powers activated, it was like this unbearable spike of rage. Their bodies exploded around me, like, like rupturing boils… I couldn't believe what I had done. It was night time when my father returned... We didn't even get to bury her. He packed everything he could into a van and we left that night. I haven't been back since."

Victor is so quiet. I feel tears welling in my eyes; I don't know what possessed me to reveal my worst memory. Why am I doing this? Victor stands, coming towards me. He wraps his arms around me and presses me against his body. I hate crying because my tears are thick and dense, it feels like globs of corn syrup are coming out of my tear ducts- a downside to my mutant powers.

"We don't have to talk about this anymore," he says in a low voice, "I'm sorry I came so late. Let me bring you back to bed." I feel large arms swooping under the back of my thighs and my back, with a single motion he's picking me up as if I weigh less than a feather. He carries me upstairs to my bed, placing me on the spacious mattress gently. As I settle under the blankets, Victor kneels beside the bed. His amber eyes are fraught with hesitation. He wants to tell me something, and he also doesn't.

"My mutant powers manifested when I was a boy," he looks tortured as he speaks, "My brother had taken a piece of pie that Ma had set aside for me. Before the powers, I would've been mad but I would've gotten over it.

When my powers came, it was the same for me, a 'spike of rage'. I was overwhelmed with rage. By the time I came to my brother was… you couldn't even recognize his face. When Pa saw what I had done, he chained me up in the basement. Every day, religiously, he'd come down the steps, preaching about repentance and the Lord's word. He'd pull out my teeth, calling them 'wicked' and 'demonic'. My main mutant power is regeneration, so the teeth always grew back. But every time was painful. And after pulling them out he'd beat me until I was unconscious. I don't really know how long I stayed down there. I just know at some point I snapped. I chewed off my own hand to escape and then I killed the fucking bastard, I... I've never told anyone this."

Even though he looks distraught, his eyes are dry. Apparently I have enough tears for the both of us, there's even a bit of snot coming out my nose.

"That's awful," I say in between sobs. "Is that why you think you're an animal? Because your dad locked you up like one?"

Victor wipes at my tears, "I've been locked up by men worse than my father. I am an animal, because it is my nature."

"I don't care what your nature is," I hold his hand in mine, "I accept you for what you are."

He's still at first, not quite registering what I'd said. When it seems to finally click for him, he doesn't look happy.

"We'll talk more in the morning, okay? Good night." he gets up and as he heads for the stairs I realize he's actually leaving.

"Stay with me." I say. Victor looks back at me, deciding whether to adhere to my request. With a heavy sigh he starts removing his clothes. Stripping away a black tie, white dress shirt, and black dress pants. He cuddles up close to me, kissing my forehead.

"You're too good to me." he whispers.

* * *

In the morning, Victor didn't bring up the Kingpin. I didn't want to argue with him again and I'm sure he felt the same. While we ate breakfast, he told me I'd have the entire day to do whatever I wanted with him. Naturally, my first thoughts were grocery shopping. I thought it would be a nice unconventional date, but now I'm finding his presence annoying.

"What about these? Do you need any of these?" Victor points to a long shelf stacked with various pads and tampons of varying sizes. I push the cart faster down the aisle, feeling embarrassed for no reason. I actually did need tampons, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Isn't your period coming on soon?"

The cart screeches to a halt, "Victor!" I yell.

He looks genuinely confused, "You smell like ripe strawberries, so I figured maybe you were close or something." He can smell my period coming? Should I be creeped out?

"You know how weird it is to tell a woman that?"

"It's weird to talk about your period?" his head cocks to the side, the same way a dog's does when curious.

"Not every lady is open about that kind of thing." Since it's out in the open now, I grab a couple boxes of tampons.

"Sorry… You know, period sex is-"

"Nope. I am never doing that so don't even bother." I continue on with the cart, heading towards the flour section.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it." Victor is close behind me.

"I don't like the idea of my blood being everywhere. Or seeing blood at all." I say. When we reach the right aisle, I scan the top shelf for my favorite brand of all purpose flour.

"I don't mind a little blood."

I look behind my shoulder just in time to dodge Victor's hand that was definitely going for my ass. He pouts and sticks his hands in his pants' pockets.

I roll my eyes and push the cart further. I don't need a lot of food, but Victor insists on doubling everything I grab. By the time we get to the register, the cart is overpacked. It takes a full ten minutes for the cashier to scan everything, and the total is astronomical. But Victor pays.

Outside the sky has begun to flurry; it snowed a few feet last night, so there's snow banks on the outer edges of the parking lot. The lot is almost full, people coming and going. As Victor and I are stuffing the trunk with groceries, a harsh shout catches my attention.

"What you need is a black man! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" I turn and stare right into the eyes of an older man with a receding hairline and wearing the chunkiest coat I'd ever seen. He's standing about ten feet away, glaring at me as if I'd brought dishonor to his family. Anger flares within me, who does this asshole think he is?

"You ought to mind your fucking business before I stick my foot up your old ass!" I shout back. Based on his jaw dropping, he was not expecting that. The man hurried along into the store, probably mumbling more nonsense on how I should live my life.

"You want me to fuck him up?" Victor says. At first I thought he was kidding, but the black of his eyes are slits, like a cat's.

"You're kidding right." that man has to at least be sixty years old. Not that that excuses his behavior. Victor doesn't respond, instead shutting the trunk and slumping into the driver's seat. I get into the passenger's seat, and eventually the car is on the road, stuck in morning traffic. 'Time after Time' is playing on the radio, and instead of enjoying Cyndi Lauper's voice, I can't get what that man said out of my mind.

It never crossed my mind before, but Victor is the first white guy I've ever been with intimately. I stare out of the window, my fingers fiddle with the hem of my orange wool sweater. I wonder if I'm the first black woman he's ever been with? I'm brought out of my thoughts as Victor plops a hand on my thigh, giving it a light squeeze. I smile and hold his hand. Who cares what that guy thinks.

After another twenty minutes of mindlessly watching the world speed past me, I notice we're not going in the direction of my apartment. Lincoln Park is in the opposite direction of where I live. You couldn't even live here if you didn't have a yearly hundred twenty thousand salary. The affluent neighborhood looks like something out of a brochure. The classic umbrella trees that follow the perfect white sidewalks. The beautiful homes that are old, but so well kept you'd think they were built this year. The road is smooth and free of potholes and cracks. Eventually the car pulls into a parking garage below a massive condominium complex.

"Are you kidnapping me?" I tease.

"If you're asking if this is where I live, then yes, this is where I live," Victor says back. "I need to grab a few things. You can come in if you want."

I hop out the car, ready to see how this wild man- as he loves to claim himself- keeps his abode. Victor holds me hand, leading me inside. I'd never been inside a condo complex. It thought it'd be something out of a movie, like the nice hotel that kid in Home Alone stayed at when his parents forgot him in New York City. But it's underwhelmingly basic. We take an elevator to the fourth floor and at the very end of the corridor is Victor's door. Room 275.

The entire condo is sparkly clean, if it were possible I'm sure little lights would gleam off of everything like freshly polished glass in the sunlight. Every room is divided by walls, unlike my place. The kitchen has a simple black, grey, and white palette. The living room has a black leather couch and a tv stand, but no tv. The bedroom smells entirely of Victor; a thick, smoky, and earthy scent. The bathroom has a huge bathtub that could fit three normal sized people, but Victor likely takes up the whole space. Other than the bathroom and kitchen, the condo is carpeted.

"This is nice." I say, sitting on his huge bed; it is god awful comfortable.

"Glad you like it." he's rummaging in the connecting closet, throwing clothes in a duffel bag.

"You going somewhere?"

"Yes," He zips up the bag, "Back to your little home."

"Why are you packing?"

"You have me in your bed so often, I might as well leave some clothes at your place."

A smirk graces my lips, "It just occurred to me I've never been in your bed," I pull myself further onto the mattress, kicking off my heeled boots. "You've probably had plenty of women here." I toss my coat on the floor.

"Believe it or not Kitten," Victor pounces on me, causing me to giggle, "You're the first."

If there is a technique for removing clothes in under thirty seconds, Victor has mastered it. In a heartbeat, my nude body is flush against his. His tongue is working the inside of my mouth and his hands are gripping here and there. I pull at his dress shirt, wanting it gone. He pulls away and rips it open, paying no mind to the buttons flying everywhere. He shrugs it off and starts unbuckling his pants. Without a thought, I reach in between my legs, playing with my already swollen clit. I feel my cheeks warm at how wet I am.

"Stop that, only I get to tease you." he snaps, mounting me again as soon as his pants and briefs are off. He grabs my hand and sticks a finger in his mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck and latch onto his lips. He lets me lead the kiss, and as I feel along his chiseled torso a deep groan emerges from him, making me smile. He grips my hips and turns me around so that I'm on my hands and knees.

"We're gonna have to skip the foreplay Kitten." Victor says before thrusting inside me. I cry out from the sudden penetration, and grip the comforter. He is relentless this time, pulsing into me as if he'd been deprived of sex. I don't know how he keeps hitting the right spot every single time. That combined with his large hands caressing and smacking my ass. My body feels like it will combust any moment now. That lovely tingling sensation spreads throughout my womb and as I cum he growls and shoves himself deep inside me, cumming with me.

"You keep clenching me so fucking tight." I can't tell if he's complaining or not. Victor slips out of my pussy and lies down next to me. I climb on top of him, pressing my ass on his dick.

"Again." I say.

He laughs and holds my hips, "You gotta give my friend a second, baby." He grabs my forearms and gently pulls me down onto his chest. I trail my lips along his neck; kissing down his jugular, nipping at his collarbones. I flick my tongue along a nipple and almost laugh as he curses.

"Alright, he's ready." Victor groans. I ease onto his cock, relishing in the feeling of his thick girth stretching my walls.

"You feel so good inside me." I moan. As I ride him, pushing down on his cock aggressively, I wonder if it could be possible to be with him. I want to know everything there is to know about him. I want to see that animal side he speaks so badly of. I want him to stay with me. I can tell he's about to burst and with a hard squeeze from my walls, he cums with a guttural "Fuck!". I lay down on his body, and feel his arms wrap around my middle. I want him to stay with me, but I don't know how to tell him.

We go on almost all day. As soon as I think it's over, Victor has me in another position, fucking me. As I lay on my side he tries again, and this time I give him a firm "NO". He makes do with snuggling behind me. A claw plays with the gold chain hanging around my neck, he eyes the heart pendant, eyeing my name engraved in the gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	8. 8

_I wiped away sweat from my eyes for the second time, becoming annoyed as the stinging persisted. There was no air conditioning in the van, and even with the windows rolled down there was no relief. There were no clouds in the sky and the sun's light was especially strong today. After wiping at my eyes I tried sweeping back the hair strands plastered to my face like noodles stuck to a pot. But it was pointless._

" _We almost there baby girl," Father spoke, grasping my hand, "we almost there." He never officially told me where we were going, but I had overheard him talking to someone on a pay phone yesterday morning. I don't know how Father knew anyone this far North. He always told me he didn't get along with his family._

" _Ya gon' tell me how ya feelin'?" he glanced down at me, concern evident in his coffee eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. I stared down at my lap, frustrated and embarrassed. Why won't my voice work? Father said nothing and resolved to focus on the road. It was another hour of black asphalt and forests of green that stretched for miles and miles. The van went into a tunnel, enveloped in shade for a short time, and when it emerged my eyes widened at the sight of an expanse of water. Even though Mississippi is on the coast, I had never seen the ocean._

" _That there is Lake Michigan." Father said upon witnessing my awe. A Lake! There were such things as lakes so huge you couldn't see the opposite shore! A strong breeze blasted my face, cooling off my skin and the inside of the car. The water was so blue and twinkled like thousands of diamonds in the light. Even though the road was a good distance away from the lake, I felt as if it were close, as if I were but a toe dip away from connecting to it. I closed my eyes and allowed the sensation to spread. I imagined myself submerged under the water, floating deep below the surface. I imagined the stillness and silence and tranquility. There were no evil men to hurt me, no corpses, no blood and gore; just me and water._

" _Holy Mary!" The van swerved. I opened my eyes and gasped. There was a river of water flowing beside the car, father had to be driving at least seventy miles per hour. The river expanded suddenly, bathing the van and gripping it like a vice claw, dragging it into the lake._

I sit up in bed, unable to breath. I grasp at my throat, trying to suck in air like a fish out of water. Victor is still asleep, and I hit at his back in a panic. He sits up, about to complain, but upon seeing my struggle, fear -something I'd never seen in him- takes over his countenance. Victor grabs my face and kisses me. I feel a flood of air forced down my throat. I try breathing again and tears slip out my eyes as I feel my lungs expand. He releases me and watches as I inhale deeply and exhale slowly.

"You can't scare me like that, Kitten." Victor says. His thick blonde brows are drawn in with worry. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I close my eyes and will myself to calm down. It was only an old memory, nonetheless it caught me off guard.

"I'm alright." I finally say.

"You weren't breathing Harmony. You're not alright." Victor wraps an arm around my shoulders, urging me to lie against his body. He always feels warm and his scent...I have yet to meet a man who smells this good.

"Tell me." he demands; I feel his claws lazily stroking my hair.

"Remember what I said, about my father and I moving North?" he nods. "We left in a hurry, so there wasn't really any time to sit down and talk about what had happened. Or how to go about controlling my powers. While we were driving along Lake Michigan, I somehow dragged the car into the lake… I almost drowned my father," I feel Victor's hold on my shoulders tighten, reassuring me that everything is okay. "Ever since then, I've done everything I could to control it. For the most part, I think I do pretty well, except that one time when we… you know."

"When I popped your two year cherry." Victor grins.  
"Haha, very funny," I roll my eyes, "Do you know the time?" We've been in bed for hours. Victor eyes peer up, and he's still for a moment.

"About seven." he answers.  
"How do you know? You didn't look at a clock."

"I just do. When you've lived as long as I have you learn a few things."

I look up at him, confused. Victor can't be any older than thirty. "I'm starving, we should go eat." I decide not to question his statement.

"My meal is right here." His hand slides down to my pussy. I laugh and push away from him.

"We should take a bath before we go." He adds.

* * *

We stop by my favorite Italian restaurant with the best chicken vesuvio in the city. The dinner rush is in full effect but I made a painting for the manager's wife a few years ago, and since then I've never had to wait for a table. A bottle of Chardonnay is brought to the table, along with a large plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes garnished with basil. A classic caprese.

"What are your plans for tomorrow, Kitten?" Victor conveys, slicing at a piece of mozzarella with his claws.

"Oh, tomorrow is going to be super busy. I'm spending all day with Ms. Jenkins. First thing in the morning we have a hair appointment, then I booked us a really nice spa session at my favorite spot. Right after that, her daughter is picking her up for a family photo session somewhere downtown. I told her I'd pick up the cake and then I have to help set up the venue. After that, I'm there for the rest of the day. Did I tell you she's turning a hundred?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that amazing? To live for a hundred years. Imagine the things she's seen. Women's suffrage. The Civil Rights movement. World War I and II. Vietnam. Kennedy's assassination. A bunch of assassinations. The first man on the moon." I could go on and on.

"I can imagine a little. Your neighbor and I are actually close in age."

The waiter arrives before I can get Victor to elaborate on the craziness he just said. A plate of steaming hot chicken vesuvio is placed in front of me. Victor ordered two steaks, so rare that I wondered if the chef cooked the meat at all. I shiver at the sight of diluted blood mixed with cooking oil oozing from the meat and focus on my own dish. Before I'm even halfway through with my meal, Victor is reclining in his seat, picking his teeth with a toothpick. How on earth does he eat so fast? After a few more bites of chicken, peas, and potato wedges, I can't go on. I push my food further on the table. When the waiter returns I'll tell him to put it in a takeaway.

"You wanna know how old I am?" his amber eyes have a playful glint. I'm curious, but I'm also nervous to know. If he's close to Ms. Jenkin's age, that means I've been fucking an old man this whole time.

"I'd be lying if I said no."

Victor leans forward, crossing his arms on the table surface. "I'm not a hundred percent sure what year I was born, so it's a little tricky keeping track of my exact age… but I guess I'd be about a hundred and ten I think."

"There's no way you're that old." There is nothing about his appearance proving that.

"I told you before, I have superior regenerative powers. This asshole doctor I used to know called it a healing factor. My cells regenerate at a speed that, even for a mutant, is abnormal. Poisons, toxins, radiation, disease, I'm immune to it all. Any injury I get heals almost instantly. Aging is a slow process for me, but I guess that's the only good part of my abilities."

"Everything else is a downside?" if I'm interpreting correctly, he's damn near immortal.

"My abilities attract unwanted attention. Especially when it involves experimentation."

"Oh." I cast my eyes down. It's hard to imagine Victor being anybody's lab rat.

"Don't be sad about it Kitten. All that's behind me now."

"What's kept you busy all this time? Did you have a family? Children?"

Victor lets a loud snort, "I've reproduced once, and the kid turned out to be an asshole."

"That's rude."

"Sweetheart, I didn't even know he existed until around ten years ago. Whoever his mother is, didn't tell me I had a child nor did she bother raising the child herself. He grew up in an orphanage," Victor crosses his arms along his chest, "At least she had the decency to name the boy. Graydon Creed."

"Graydon? But that's…"

"The asshole who founded the Friends of Humanity? Yes, that little shit is my fucking kid. I guess I had that coming. It's not like I give humans a reason to like me. Frankly, I don't give a shit about humans."

"The same way Graydon doesn't give a shit about mutants."

"Like father like son."

"What is he up to these days? No one's heard from him in years."

"He's old. He has Alzheimer's. He can't remember his own name, somedays."

"You visit him?"

"I'm the one who had to put his mutant hating ass in a nursing home. All his 'friends' would have left him to die alone. He's my kid at the end of the day. I see him when I can and he doesn't even remember that he hates me. He doesn't remember a lot of things, but he seems happier. He smiles more… I don't know if it would have made a difference if I were there to raise him. He probably would've turned out worse."

"Probably." I say with a smirk, but Victor isn't amused. "I'm Joking." I add.

* * *

Back at my apartment, I settled into baby blue pajama pants and a long sleeved pink shirt. Victor changes into grey sweats, the upper half of his body left bare. He's in the kitchen, fixing a sandwich for himself, as if he hadn't just eaten. I sit before my easel, the painting of young Ms. Jenkin's is illuminated by a lamp light, clamped to the top of the frame. It's done, but I stare over it, wondering if there is anything I could add. Victor, at some point, wounds up behind me, staring down at the piece.

"She's cute." He says.

"She is cute," I reiterate "She is a bundle of joy." I turn around in my stool, craning my neck up to look him in the eyes.

He smiles, showing a little of his teeth, "What? I got something on my face?"

"You should come to the party tomorrow." I say.

"You want me to party with a bunch of old people?" Victor mocks.

"Yes, you'd fit right in."

He opens his mouth to argue back, but no words come out. Ultimately he decides to poke my forehead hard enough to almost make me fall out of my seat. "Ass." I mumble under my breath. I stand and pick up the painting, bringing it to my work desk. The canvas is thin, so it easily fits inside a smooth wooden frame that I painted Ms. Jenkin's favorite color, navy blue. A while ago, I bought a large portfolio bag to stick it inside, ensuring it'd make a safe and debris free trip from my home to the party venue. From my peripheral, Victor is browsing through a tall storage rack, full of my drawings and paintings. He pulls out an eleven by fourteen tinted paper; on the center of the page is a charcoal figure drawing of a live female nude model.

"Can you draw me naked?" He shows me the image, as if I hadn't seen it before. I almost say 'are you going to pay for it' but I know he will if I ask him to.

"Sure." I say.

I grab the necessary tools. An eighteen by twenty four sketchbook with tinted slightly textured pages, a black charcoal stick, a white charcoal pencil, a smudge tensile, and a kneaded eraser. I have Victor lie on the couch. He tries the typical side pose but I insist he just lie down. His left arm hangs off the side of the couch, his fingers brushing the floor. His left leg lies straight and the right is bent, leaning against the couch. His right forearm is draped just above the top of his head. After a few minutes of wondering what is missing, I run upstairs and grab a pillow off my bed; I fluff the pillow and place it under his head.

I look over the pose, my gaze traveling down his broad chest, toned abdomen, and the bush of blonde curls leading to his manhood. I suck in a breath and force my eyes away; it's been a long time since I've drawn someone I'm attracted to. I grab a stool from the kitchen and sit with my back as straight as possible. I hold the top of the sketchbook with my left hand and angle it on the top of my thighs. Once I've found a comfortable drawing position, I begin marking the page. The charcoal stick glides on the page; every few seconds I glance up at Victor's form.

He has an angular face, lining his cheekbones are blonde thick whiskers that are also shaped along his jawline. The muscles along his brow bone are thick, giving his eyes a hooded effect. His nose kind of reminds me of James Dean, except it's a bit more sharp and long. His top lip has a subtle cupid's bow and his bottom lip is a hint plumper. The muscles of his neck are quite prominent. His shoulders are like mini shields. Drawing the rest of his massive body takes me a whole hour. By the time I finish, making last minute highlights with my white charcoal pencil, Victor is fast asleep. I place everything down on the floor and kneel by the couch, softly tapping at his shoulder. His eyes blink open.

"I'm done." I say. He sits up, stretching out his arms as I retrieve my sketchbook. When I'm close, he pulls me onto his lap. I show him the drawing.

"Oh shit, I look hot!" he blurts out.

"You are hot." I convey and blush when his hand slides under my ass.

He kisses my forehead, "Now you have something to touch yourself to."

I shift closer to his body, straddling his waist and wrapping my arms around his neck. I latch onto his bottom lip, kissing and then nipping his skin. A low growl emits from his throat; I feel his large hands sliding down my back, pushing past my pajama waistband. He grips my ass, and pulls me down on his dick.

"I want to do it in the bed." I say, my voice breathy. Victor takes his hands out my pajamas, grasping my thighs as he stands from the couch.

* * *

This sex is different. I notice the moment Victor pushed inside of me. I lie on my back, my legs squeeze his hips. Once his shaft is entirely enveloped by my walls, he doesn't move. He grabs my face, kissing me with a passion he had not revealed until now. His lips caress mine, I feel his tongue slip into my mouth. His hips start to move again, but it's not the same quick paced thrusting. He doesn't even pull all the way out, merely making slow and short strokes. I was annoyed at first, wanting him to go faster. But as his hands rub along my body, caressing up my arms, grabbing my breasts, gripping down my abdomen, and fondling my ass before repeating the process; the ache in my lower stomach ignites like a furnace, and as he continues his slow ministrations, the fire inside me spreads throughout every inch of my body. He kisses me again and I feel his fingers along my scalp before my hair is gently tugged. I lift my head back and moan as I feel his teeth graze down my exposed neck.

"You like this?" I feel his breath on my skin.

"Mmhm." I can't even form words. His strokes are still slow, but he's pulling out further than before. He grasps the back of my knees and pushes my thighs closer to my chest. His penetration is deeper now, and he finds that precious spot. His hips move faster, hitting that spot, and my limbs become numb as I feel like all the blood in my body is hurrying to my womb.

"Don't cum yet." He growls. I clutch the pillow under my head, gritting my teeth and holding my breath as I try to prevent my climax. Victor groans, his thrusting is becoming irregular and I know he's close. The build up within me is too much to bear. And when I cum, crying out louder than I ever have, the wave of ecstasy flooding my body is intoxicating. My mind is gone. For a moment, I am in pure bliss.

"Shit, stop clenching- Fuck!" Victor thrusts as deep as he could go, holding his position as he cums. He stays there, riding out his own climax. When it's over, he lies on top of me, snuggling his nose in the crook of my neck. I tangle my fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. After a few minutes, all of sudden I feel a rumbling along my chest, like the subtle thrum of an engine. It takes a moment before I realize the vibrations are coming from Victor.

"Are you… are you purring?"

The vibrations stop "...No."

"You were purring, like a cat!"

"No I wasn't."

"Why are you lying?"

He lifts up, glaring down at me. His cheeks are cherry red. "Don't call me a liar."

"But you were purring! And… and it felt kind of nice," the vibrations return, rippling along my chest and abdomen.

"See you're doing it!" I yell. Victor rolls to the side, plopping down next to me and faces the wall. "Why are you embarrassed? I said it felt good." he doesn't respond, making me pout. I don't know why he's bothered, but I drop the subject and curl up next to him, pressing my back to his. Just as I'm drifting to sleep, the bed creaks as Victor shifts. I feel an arm drape around my waist and his breath teases the hair at the top of my head. After a moment, I feel his claw playing with the gold chain around my neck. He fiddles with the heart pendant, tracing the letters that spell my name.

"Mine." he suddenly snarls possessively in my ear. My heart flutters; is he just high off of arousal, or is there truth in that single world?

"What if," I turn on my side, fully awake now, and face him, "What if I said I want to be yours." The room is dimly lit by moonlight from the arch window, but there's no mistaking the uncertainty in his eyes.

"I'd say you're crazy," Victor presses a thumb to my lips, "You're a good woman Harmony. I don't deserve you."

Ms. Jenkin's words are brought to the forefront of my mind, replaying, 'This Victor is afraid of showing his true self to you. Afraid you will reject him for what he is.' I place my palm on his cheek, his blonde whiskers scratch against my hand.

"Are you happy with me?"

He starts purring again, the black of his eyes dilate, eclipsing amber, "Yes."

I tap the tip of his nose, "Everyone deserves to be happy, right?"

He grasps my hand and presses my palm to his lips, "You don't know what you're asking for, Kitten."

"Let me be the judge of that."

He leans in and kisses my forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	9. 9

Ms. Jenkins clutches her invisible pearls as she stares up at Victor. I told her we had to match on her birthday, so she’s wearing a “We’re neighbors” long sleeved t-shirt paired with a pink fleece coat and dark blue jeans and black boots. Victor had been waiting outside her apartment door, as I’d told him to, while I fetched my centurion neighbor. 

“My goodness,” Ms. Jenkins says, “Harmony, you didn’t tell me how _gigantic_ he is!” I follow behind her, shutting her front door and locking it. 

“Victor, Ms. Jenkins, Ms. Jenkins, Victor.” 

“Oh, please. Call me Mary Bell.” she flutters her long white eyelashes, like a smitten school girl. 

“It is a pleasure, Mary Bell.” Victor gently grasps her hand and kisses the back, his lips lingering longer than necessary. Ms. Jenkins clutches her invisible pearls again, her breath hitching. 

“If only I were seventy years younger.” she sighed. 

“I think I can get a round out of you.” 

I roll my eyes, “Victor, please, you’re gonna give my neighbor a heart attack.” 

Victor helps Ms. Jenkins down the stairs. I know she thoroughly enjoyed holding onto his muscled forearm. He helps her into the passenger's seat of his car while I get in the back. It's early in the morning, so there’s not too many cars on the road. I never took Ms. Jenkins as the interrogative type, but she sprung question after question on Victor. Where is he from? What does he do for a living? What are his intentions with her precious young neighbor? That question he answered vaguely. By the time we reach the salon, the sun has finally peeked over the horizon. When we walk in the salon is busy. Most women who frequent here are business women, so mornings are peak time. There’s quiet chatter here and there, but it becomes completely silent. I approach the reception desk; Milly is working it today and she’s staring at the hulk of a man following behind me. I realize everyone is copying her behavior. Milly leans over the counter, whispering in her high pitched voice,

“What on earth is that? It can’t be a man, there’s no man that fine.” I know Victor heard her, based on the smug smile on his face. 

“You’re right, he’s not a man. He’s a parasite .” I mock. Milly holds in a laugh and decides to drop the topic. She opens up a big calendar, full of appointments. 

“You're getting the usual and our birthday girl is getting the royal treatment, right?” she affirms. I nod and place my handbag on the desk surface, about to take out my wallet.

“Don’t you dare,” Victor places a black card on the desk.

I look up at him and can’t even find it in me to argue. Since this morning, his bright amber eyes have been giving me a curious and flattering look; I don’t know why it’s giving me anxiety. 

“Alright,” I yield, “It’s going to be a few hours. Don’t forget, the cake will be ready at nine. And it needs to go straight to the venue, then-” I almost squeal as Victor suddenly pulls me into him, his hand pressed firmly on the small of my back. 

“I won’t forget.” he pulls me in for a kiss, his lips massaging mine at his own leisure. When he’s determined he’s tasted enough, he places a quick peck on my lips before leaving. The second he’s out the door the salon is in an uproar. Everyone bombards me with their thoughts and questions. 

“How the hell did you bag that!” 

“I’ve never been one to like vanilla, but damn!” 

“Did you see his arms? That man could throw my fat ass like a football!”

“Girl, you know you have to give us details.” Tysha, my hairdresser is waiting at her chair, standing with a hand on her hip. 

As I sit in the leather salon chair, Denise, another hairdresser working on Ms. Jenkin’s head to the right of us, intervenes. “How’d you meet Mr. Blonde?” 

“I met him at the club I work at.” I say. 

“Are you two in a relationship?” Denise continues. 

I feel my cheeks warm as I smile, “Um. We’re working on that.” 

“Ooo, you're in love love!” Tysha squeals, “And he looks way better than that what’s his face. Shit, what was his name.” 

“David.” I say. 

“Yes! That fucking shithead. Fuck him.” there are resounding ‘fuck him’s around the salon. “ Anywho, what’s your new man’s name?” 

“Victor.” 

“That’s a dominant name, I bet he’s into bondage.” Tysha says. I was about to respond, but when I think about it the most ‘risque’ sex act he’s done to me is eat me out in someone else’s bathroom. I don’t know if he has other kinks; we’ve never talked about it. Despite how much time we’ve been spending together lately, he’s still kind of one big mystery. 

“You ladies would be surprised how many big men like to be submissive,” Ms. Jenkins chimes in, “my Earl was almost the same size as your Victor, and he loved being dominated.” 

“Ms. Mary Bell Jenkins!” my mouth is agape. 

“Oh, Earl loved it when I took charge in the bedroom,” Ms. Jenkins chuckles, “I think I still have that rope I’d use to tie him up to the bedpost.” 

“Damn, Ms. Jenkins.” Tysha conveys. 

A few hours later and we’re ready to go. Every now and then I like to break up the monotony of having curls, so I decided to have my hair straightened. Just a simple silk press. Ms. Jenkin’s short white hair is fluffed into a beautiful afro that shapes around her head like a cloud. Even as an old woman, her countenance has a natural vibrance. Just as I’m making another appointment with Milly, Victor walks in. 

“A punctual man is a keeper.” Ms. Jenkins whispers to me. 

* * *

The spa is exactly what I hoped it to be, a full hour of pure relaxation. Ms. Jenkin’s eldest daughter, Maria, picks her up from the spa. Even though I wanted to go to the venue, Victor makes an impromptu stop in downtown Chicago. At first I thought we were going to eat, since I’d only had toast for breakfast, but it turns out to be a simple stroll through the decorated streets. Often I forget that Christmas is just around the corner; ever since my father died, I’d never been that interested in celebrating holidays. I was annoyed at first, not wanting to be late setting up for the party. But when Victor entwines his fingers through my own, I grip his hand and put away my frustration.

He parked rather close to Chinatown and we wandered right through the welcoming red gateway. It's still early in the day, so it's not as crowded as usual. We continue down South Wentworth Ave, passing shops and street vendors. We pass one vendor selling grilled sausages, and the smell is too enticing to pass by. As Victor orders the food I stick my hands in my long coat, looking down the street. I used to come here all the time with my dad, one of our favorite spots is the little teashop just around the corner. Just as I’m wondering if the old owner for the place is still alive, a woman pushing a baby stroller comes into view pausing before the intersection.

Considering she’s wearing two inch heeled boots, she’s rather short. Her light skin is blanketed in a bronze parka coat that comes down to her knees. Curly brown hair is piled on top of her head in a bun and her cheeks and nose are rather red, likely from the cold. She reaches into the stroller, pulling out her crying infant and snuggling the little bundle in her arms. I smile at the gesture. The woman places the child back in the stroller and turns around, talking to someone. The world seems to stop as I watch my ex appear, embracing the woman and kissing her on the lips. David hasn’t changed. He always kept his black hair low cut and groomed. His dark eyes, what I had once found alluring, stare into the eyes of another woman with affection. The woman places her hands on his cheeks and the golden shimmer of her ring makes my heart stutter. I feel tears in my eyes.

It’s been two years and a half since he dumped me. I spent a whole year processing the damage he’d caused me, trying to understand how he could abandon me after three years together. The past memories flooding to the front of my conscious are unwarranted. I remember the first time he asked me out; we were so young then, just two people infatuated with one another. I remember our first date; he had taken me out dancing and we danced all night. I remember the first time we had sex; I’d done it with enough men to have a specific taste, but sex is different when its with the love of your life. It’s sweeter and consuming, like a candy you can suck on for eternity but it’ll never disappear. In the third year of our relationship he asked me to marry him, I said yes. He wasn’t perfect. He got on my nerves more times than I can count. There were plenty of heated disagreements. And I’d convinced myself that his hurtful comments were part of being in a relationship. In the end, he truly wasn’t all that bad. But I had kept something from him, something I knew he felt strongly about. 

More tears slip down my cheeks as I realize my heart may still ache for him. He was my first love. And there he is, two years later, married and a father. Did I ever mean anything to him? 

“What’s wrong Kitten?” Victor is by my side, gripping my hand. I stare up at him, wiping at my eyes. 

“Nothing, I’m fine, it's just really cold.” 

“You’re crying ‘cause it's cold?” he isn’t buying it. 

“I’m fine Victor, please, I just want to go.” he looks at me for a moment, his amber eyes contemplating. He sighs and shrugs off his coat then places it on my shoulders. He offers me a sausage, but I shake my head, my appetite is gone. 

* * *

The birthday party is in a massive hall not too far from Chinatown. A lot of Ms. Jenkin’s family have shown up, helping with decorations. Round tables are placed in a U formation, so there’s a large gap for a dance floor. Ms. Jenkin’s table is uniquely decorated; instead of white the tablecloth is a ruby red, the centerpiece is a vase of red roses with rose petals spread out along the cloth. When Ms. Jenkins arrives, her family swarms her radiating warmth and love; it brings tears to my eyes. I don’t know anyone in my extended family. I could pass an uncle or aunt, or cousin on the street and have no idea that they are my blood. My mother and father are gone. My ex is married to another woman. Tracy is the only family I have left. I make a beeline for the bar, immediately requesting two shots of tequila. 

The party goes on flawlessly. Gifts are unwrapped, everyone gets a say on why they love the hundred year old birthday girl, the food is served and the three tier birthday cake is brought out. The DJ arrives a little later in the night and starts the music. Clearly the DJ knows how to get black people up and dancing, because as soon as ‘September’ comes on everybody gets hyped. Ms. Jenkin’s children are helping her navigate the dance floor, grooving with their centurion mother. I’m surprised when Victor pulls me out of my seat. 

“What you know about this?” I say, 

“First of all, you were a baby when I was going to Earth, Wind, and Fire concerts.” he grips my left hand, his right he places on my hip. I’m further surprised at how good he dances. We dance close, and when he twirls me around, this time my back is against his front. He places both his hands on my hips, sensually moving with me. I hate when David comes to mind again- we used to dance just like this all the time.   
“I need another drink.” he’s the last person I want to think about. 

“You’ve had a lot of drinks tonight kitten.” 

“I don’t even feel tipsy.” 

“Harmony, you’ve been mixing your alcohol and literally just took two more shots of tequila. I really don’t think you should have more to drink.” 

“I feel fine.” 

“It hasn’t hit you yet. Give it some time.” sure enough, he’s right. When the alcohol finally reaches my brain, the world seems to blur and everything becomes unbearably intense. My hands are linked behind Victor’s neck as I sway to Jodeci’s ‘Forever My Lady’. I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to his chest. I feel like there’s an acrobat in my stomach doing a serious routine. 

“You okay Harmony?” Victor questions, concern in his voice. When I don’t respond he lifts my chin up with a hand. His lips curl into a smirk, “I think you need to throw up.” 

“I’m. I-I’m.” I can’t even create a sentence. Jesus, how much did I drink? Victor leads me away from the dance floor, having to wrap an arm around my waist just to keep me from stumbling over my own legs. Luckily there are no women currently in the women’s restroom. He brings me inside the closest stall and as soon as I’m over the toilet, I’m retching. I grip the sides of the toilet seat, tears burning in my eyes as the alcohol and the food from the buffet comes up. Victor holds my hair back with one hand and rubs my back with his other. 

“When you’re done we’re telling Mary Bell goodbye and I’m taking you home.” 

* * *

The drive home feels like torture. I feel like my brain is throbbing and I can’t focus my vision on anything. The world is spinning. At least my stomach doesn’t hurt anymore. When we arrive at my apartment, it's like a repeat of our first date. Victor has to carry me out of the car and up the three flights of stairs. 

“I can walk.” I grumble the second he opens the door. Carefully, I’m placed on my feet. I reach down to take off my boots and almost fall over. 

“Hold on.” Victor kneels, unzipping my boots and removing them. I mutter out a ‘thank you’ and pull my fleece coat over my head, tossing it on the floor. I’ll have to hang it up later. I walk over to the bathroom and flip on the light and flinch from its brightness. I peel away my clothes until I’m only in a bra and panties. I brush my teeth and wash my face and stuff my hair into a silk black bonnet. 

“Here.” Victor places an open water bottle on the marble counter. 

“Thank you… I’m sorry I got too drunk.” 

Victor stands behind me and rubs his hands along my arms, “Tell me what’s going on with you.” I grip the counter top. There’s no way I can talk about David. He’s supposed to be my past, not lingering in my thoughts.

“Is it something I did?” Victor says. I turn around and stare up at him. His amber eyes look guilty, even though he hadn’t wronged me.

I wrap my arms around his middle, pressing myself to his body, “You did nothing wrong Victor. I really don’t want to talk right now, I want to go to bed.” 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

I internally groan. He isn’t going to let this go. “I’ll tell you, just not now. _Please_.” his eyes narrow, the cogs in his brain turning and turning. 

“Kitten… whatever it is I promise I won’t get upset,” he wraps his arms around my waist, “I want to know why you’re sad.” 

Is it that obvious? I squish my face onto his chiseled torso, feeling his hairs tickle at my face. With every breath his scent fills my senses. The earthy tones remind me of a warm campfire; a place where you could sit and be in the quiet of nature. I manifest this image in my mind; there’s only Victor and I, no one else. 

“When we were in Chinatown,” I began, holding onto that image because I didn’t want to think of anything else, “I saw my ex with another woman.” I feel tears in my eyes and hate myself for it. Of all people to feel anything for, why does it have to be the asshole that dumped me? Victor is silent, unbearably so, and when I glance up at his face my heart drops. The black of his eyes are slits. He withdraws his hold on me and walks out the bathroom. Uncertain, I follow behind him but keep my distance. He goes into the kitchen, pressing his palms into the surface of the island. His hair bristles like an angered cat. Tears quietly slip down my cheeks. 

“You promised you wouldn’t get upset.” I say, my voice low and somber.

He won’t even look at me and his next words pierce through me, “Do you still love him?” 

It should have been simple to say ‘no’ but I feel like the word is stuck in my throat. How could I possibly still love David? How could one little interaction bring up so many hurtful feelings? 

“I…” my heart feels like it's going a million miles an hour. 

“No, I don’t love him.” I know it’s not the truth and I feel like bile is coming up my throat. Victor glances behind his shoulder, his eyes wide as if I’d slapped him. 

“Harmony… Why are you lying?” 

My heart won’t slow down and my anxiety is having a field day inside me. What does he want me to say? 

“Why does it matter if I love him or not? We’re not together anymore, I’ve moved on.” 

Victor stalks towards me, glaring down at me, “When we were on the street. When I asked you why you were crying it was because of him, wasn’t it? You got drunk because of him.” 

“I have a right to my feelings, Victor!” I wipe at my tears, there not helping in the least. “I’ve already said I want to be with you. My ex doesn’t matter.” I’m getting sick of this discussion. 

“Did you break up with him?” 

“No, no he broke up with me.” 

“If he hadn’t broken up with you, would you still be together?” 

I hold in a breath…. If David hadn’t broken up with me, we would be married. My lips tremble and more tears stream down my cheeks. I hate the look in Victor’s eyes, I hate that I’m the reason he looks so livid. But what can I do? 

“I don’t understand why you’re being this way,” my vision is blurred by tears. “If you don’t want to be with me then there’s the fucking door!” 

Oh god…

I slap my hands over my mouth, but a wave of nausea overtakes me. I keel over and vomit on the floor. Between dry heaving and sobbing, every ounce of energy is sapped out of me. 

“I got you.” Victor wraps an arm around my waist and helps me onto my feet. 

“I’m sorry,” there’s no way he wants me after this, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” he says softly, leading me back into the bathroom. I brush my teeth again and splash cold water on my face. 

“Drink.” he hands me the water bottle. I manage to pause my tears, long enough to drink half the bottle. I squeak when Victor suddenly rubs my face with a towel. 

“If someone saw you like this, kitten, they’d think I tortured you.” 

“You are torturing me. I didn’t want to talk about…” all I want is to forget I ever had a first love. “you had no right.” 

“I have every right to know if you have feelings for another man.” 

“But we’re not together anymore, so why does it matter!” I don’t know if his intention is to further anger me with silence but it's working. With an aggravated huff, I push past him and practically stomp out the bathroom. Seeing bile on my nice polished wooden floor makes me want to vomit again. I go into the kitchen, rummaging under the sink for cleaning supplies. 

“I’ll handle it, you need to rest.” Victor is kneeling behind me. 

“I got it-” 

“I’m not going back and forth with you anymore, _frail_ ,” his baritone voice sends shivers down my spine. “Take your ass to bed.” I glance over my shoulder, the black of his eyes are slits. I keep my mouth shut and do as bid. 

* * *

_I sat in between my mother’s legs. There’s a book on my lap and I tried to concentrate on the words, but a sharp tug on my hair brings me out of the world of caterpillars. “Ow!” I shrieked._

_“Oh hush.” mother scolded and continued detangling my hair with a wide tooth comb. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, until my father came into the picture. He came up the steps of the porch, but the stairs are different from the little cottage in the South. In fact, as my eyes jot around, thick snow blankets the street. Strangely it doesn’t feel cold. And even stranger, my mother never left the South, so why is she here in my second childhood home? Father kneels in front of me and holds out his palm. In the center is a silver ring, embedded with small shiny diamonds._

_“You shouldn’ marry that West Side boy. He ain’t right.” mother said._

_“He’s decent enough,” father disagreed, “You wasn’t right for years when I died. You thought drownin’ yourself in liquor and sex would heal the pain. But that boy went and put you back together.”_

_“He hates what she is,” mother added, “There ain’t a man on God’s earth worth hidin’ who you is.”_

_“He took care of her.”_

_“He left her.”_

When I open my eyes, it’s still night. It's dark, but I can make out his silhouette beside me. Victor lies on his stomach, his blonde hair is disheveled and falls over his face. I reach over and smooth the strands back; his mouth is slightly parted and his brows are drawn in, as if he’s contemplating something deep. I cringe thinking about my behavior earlier in the day. I didn’t even know I still had that level of drama in me, and yet he stayed. I scoot closer to him, snuggling into his side. 

“What’s the matter, kitten?” His voice is sleepy. Hearing my nickname makes my face warm. It seems belittling, but when he says it… I feel loved. 

“What’s a frail?” I didn’t forget what he had called me before sending me to bed. 

“What’s a what?” Victor turns on his side and snatches my waist, pressing me into him. 

“A frail. What is that?” I wrap my arms around his neck. 

“A fragile woman.” 

“You think I’m fragile?” 

“You’re exhaustingly sensitive.” 

“Oh.” well damn. 

“Don’t worry, I still like you.” he kisses my forehead. 

“You can’t just say that and give me kisses.” when I try to push away his hold around my waist tightens. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” Victor kisses all along my face, ignoring my protest against his actions. The moment his lips hover over mine, I bite his bottom lip hard enough to hurt but not draw blood. 

“You wanna play rough kitten?” he plunges his tongue in between my lips, making me squeal like a small animal. He pushes me onto my back, seizing my hands and trapping them above my head. When he breaks the kiss, he has a perverse smile. 

“You keep your hands up here, understand? Don’t make me have to tie you up.” Christ in heaven, this man knows how to make me submit. 

“Yes daddy.” I withhold a chuckle as his irises dilate. Victor cups my breasts, firmly fondling and thumbing my nipples through my bra. His breath is humid and hot on my flesh as he nips along my neck. I want so badly to touch him, but I know he’ll follow through with his threat if I disobey. One hand slips down into my panty. The sensation of my clit being rubbed makes me gasp. His lips kiss down my sternum and out of the blue his mouth envelopes my right nipple. I feel teeth pressing down, but the fabric of the bra keeps his canines from penetrating my skin. I can’t help it, my fingers bury themselves in his hair as I cry out. And with a vicious snarl he grabs them and pins them back down to the bed. 

“I can’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself kitten, I’m gonna have to tie you up.” 

“Please don’t restrain me daddy.” 

“Disobedience requires punishment.” 

“Then punish me another way.” 

His amber eyes glare down at me as he thinks on my words. And then a smile graces his lips. He lets me go and leaves the bed, going towards my wardrobe. I didn’t even notice he’d left his bag there, and all I hear is a zipper and rummaging. While he searches for whatever, I take off my bra and panty, tossing them on the floor. When he returns he’s wearing a single black leather glove on his left hand that stops at his wrist and in the other hand he holds a purple vibrator. 

“Come here.” he beckons with a gloved finger. I go on my hands and knees and crawl towards him, my pussy already throbbing in anticipation. 

“Open your mouth,” I do as told. He presses two fingers down on my tongue, “suck.” My lips close around his fingers. My tongue feels along leather- I’m glad it doesn’t taste like anything. When he determines I’ve done enough, he grabs my arm and urges me to hold onto him. 

“Spread your legs kitten.” Those same two fingers he slips between a different pair of lips. 

“Oh fuck.” I gasp. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust. He thrusts his fingers into my pussy, caressing and stretching my inner walls. 

“You like this?” he murmurs. 

“Yes. Oh god, I’m gonna-” without warning, he stops his ministrations and pushes me onto my back. 

“Why’d you stop!” 

“You’ll cum when I say so,” Victor says as he licks my fluids off his fingers. “Now turn around.” maybe I should have let him restrain me, nonetheless I obey. He centers the vibrator at my pussy, pushing in slowly, allowing my wetness to slick along its shaft. I bite my lip and shiver as it keeps going and going inside. 

“Remember kitten, you can’t cum unless I give you permission.” Victor says. 

“O-okay.” 

“Say it.” 

“I won’t cum without your permission.” 

“Good.” he turns on the vibrator. I bite my bottom lip, groaning and pushing my hips further down on the toy. He strokes it leisurely in and out of my pussy. I try not to think about the heat blooming in my pelvis. I grip the bed sheets as if they’re a lifeline, trying desperately not to cum. When he smacks my ass, I almost completely lose it. 

“You’re doing good kitten.” He turns the toy off and stops his ministrations, and when he’s determined I’ve caught my breath, he does it all over again. This terrible, terrible process continues for god knows how long, and when I reach my limit I practically break down .

“I can’t take it anymore!” there’s tears pooling in my eyes, “Please, please, please, please, please!” 

Victor growls, tossing the toy somewhere else and turns me around, pushing me onto my back. He mounts me, grips my hips and pulls me down onto him. 

“Fuck!” I cry out; his girth is considerably larger than the toy’s. My legs straddle his waist. I’m not entirely ready and he doesn’t wait. He thrusts over and over into me. He grips my ass, lifts me up and keeps fucking into me. His hot breath is on my neck. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” he growls in my ear. The feel of his girth filling me, the strength of his hands gripping me, the sensation of sweat and heat from his body. I want him, I want him so much! His thrusts become faster and desperate. 

“You can cum baby.” he moans. And the crash that befalls me is unlike anything I’d ever felt in my entire life. My legs go numb, my brain is mush. All I can do is revel in the heavenly feeling of being undone. 

“I swear Harmony. You’re gonna rip my fucking dick off if you keep clenching like that.” Victor complains, but I can’t even respond.

I’m too far gone. 

* * *

I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but as the sun’s light flashes on my face, the first thing I feel is pain. I sit up in bed and grit my teeth; my lower abdomen is cramping badly and there’s pain in my left shoulder. I touch along the skin in between my neck and shoulder; it feels wet. I examine my fingertips, and upon seeing red my body goes cold. I feel something slick down my inner thighs and when I look down my heart catches in my throat at the sight of more red.

I hop out of bed, panic coursing through me in a maddening rush. Immediately my stomach lurches at the sight of red all over my blanket and sheets. Victor stirs in the sheets, and gradually sits up. He rubs his eyes; there’s blood on his mouth. My breaths become haggard. I close my eyes and try to force away the sight of blood but it’s too late. My mind ventures back to that moment, that terrifying moment. I was but a child, surrounded in gore and blood. Their bodies littered the front yard of my childhood home, painting the grass red. I open my eyes, and a scream tears from my throat. The bodies are here, all over my bedroom floor. And the blood, my god there’s so much blood. 

“Harmony!” it's the last thing I hear before my world goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading!


	10. 10

I sit on the couch, freshly clean and snug in a pink onesie, and a mug of ginger lemon tea in my hands as Tracee continues to talk at me. The space between my neck and shoulder blade really itches, but I don’t want to scratch it. I don’t need another reason for her to bad mouth Victor. 

“Harmony, you’re never this fucking quiet. Did he hit you? I swear to god I’ll rip his fucking balls off if he hit you.” 

I roll my eyes, “He didn’t hit me Tracee.” 

“Then tell me what happened! What did he fucking do to you! Clearly he tried to bite off your fucking neck!” 

“I’m on my period.” 

“That doesn’t explain the bite mark, stupid!” 

“It doesn’t hurt.” it really itches. 

“Look, he’ll be back any second. Just tell me what happened.” 

“I’ve already told you. I woke up and my period had come on and… you know how sick blood makes me.” 

“Harmony that doesn’t explain the fucking bite mark.” 

“It’s a love bite.” 

“Baby...  _ That  _ is not a fucking love bite.” 

“I’m fine Tracee. I’m fine, I don’t know why you keep prying.” 

“You’re not fine. And I’m gonna find out what happened, so if you’re not gonna tell me then that asshole has some explaining to do.” and speak of the devil. I hear the front door open. Tracee and I stare at Victor entering, he’s carrying a large paper bag, hopefully filled with my requests. After taking off his shoes he stalks over to us, placing the bag beside me. 

“I got everything you wanted. Chocolate cookie dough ice cream. Ginger ale. Puffed cheetos. Oreos. Famous Amos.” he pulls the items out the bag and my mouth waters at the sight. Tracee is quiet but broods, and I’m sure Victor notices. 

I pick up the pint of ice cream, “Thank you. Can I get a spoon?” 

“I’ll get it.” Tracee interjects and bolts for the kitchen. Victor gives me a curious look that I ignore. 

“How’s your-” he tries touching the bite mark, currently covered with a bandage, but I shrug away. 

“It’s fine.” it comes out harsher than intended. 

“… I’m sorry. I couldn’t control myself.” 

“Isn’t that what they all fucking say?” Tracee plops the spoon on my lap as she glowers at Victor, “What the hell is wrong with you! How could you hurt her like that?” 

Victor’s amber eyes flash and his irises shrink into slits. 

“I should call the fucking police on your ass!” 

“Jesus fucking christ Tracee!” I can’t take any more of this, “Why are you here anyways!” 

“It’s Thursday, dummy! We have work tonight!” 

Ugh. Really? “We don’t even have to start getting ready until the late afternoon, it's like, 10am!”

“Harmony, you’re acting like I don’t show up at your house on the regular… if you want me to leave babe, just say it.” 

“You know you’re always welcome here. Don’t even start that bullshit.” 

“If anyone should leave it's this asshole.” she acts like she wasn’t the one who convinced me to sleep with said asshole. 

“You know what-” I stand up, wince from doing so too quickly, and take my ice cream into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I sit on the toilet seat, open the chocolate cookie dough dessert, and scoop out a large helping. I don’t want to talk about last night. I don’t want to think about the bite on my shoulder. The crazy part about Victor biting me is that I didn’t feel him do it. 

I assume it happened last night, but for all I know he could’ve done it while I was sleeping. After eating halfway through the carton, I internally groan and make the painstaking choice to leave my sanctuary. This is my home anyhow, I should just kick them both out. Tracee is still on the couch, metaphorical smoke coming out of her head. She has on a pair of headphones and is flipping through a home interior design magazine, oblivious of my return and deep in her own little world. Victor is in the kitchen, chopping away at an assembly of vegetables. There’s a pot on the stove and a delicious scent plumes from it. 

“What are you making?” I sit on a stool and watch his process. 

“Chicken stew.” His response is quick and kind of snappy- is he mad at me? Again? 

“It's still morning, why are you making stew?” if anything, I’d prefer pancakes or french toast. 

“It’ll give you strength…”

“Victor… Clearly you want to say something to me.” 

“How are you, really?” 

“I’m fine-”

“I bit the fuck out of you Harmony. I know you feel something about that.” 

“Honest to god, I’m not mad. I’m just… I didn’t even feel you do it.” 

“You were having an intense orgasm, kitten, I doubt you felt anything other than the purest pleasure.” 

My face warms. That’s when he bit me! While I was… I didn’t even know I could have orgasms that intense. It was almost overwhelming. 

“While we’re on the topic of pleasure,” I say, picking a carrot off the chopping block and popping it in my mouth, “We’ve never had the, ‘what are you into’, chat.” 

“Oh, I’m into some weird shit Kitten, shit that’d scare a vanilla girl like you.” 

“What! I am not vanilla.” 

Victor grins, his amber eyes glancing at me playfully, “You know, I can always tell when you’re lying.” 

I frown and cross my arms, “I’ve done things. Kinky things.” 

“Like what?” 

“I spanked a guy once… he thoroughly enjoyed it.” That was so long ago, the strange event is a hazy memory. All I remember is being completely taken aback as a previous hookup begged me to spank him with a paddle. I obliged, but I didn’t find it all that pleasant. 

“That’s it?” Victor picks up the chopping block, heads over to the stove and dumps all the chopped veggies into the boiling stew. 

“Well.” he’d know if I made up a story. 

“I’ll give you the tiniest glimpse of what I want,” he approaches me. I crane my neck up just to see the mischievous smile on his face. Suddenly his hand shoots out with the quickness of a snake, gripping my throat but not squeezing. My breathing stops. The warmth of his palm on my neck makes me shudder. Victor brings his face so close to mine, I can feel his breaths along my lips. 

“What I want is an obedient little slut. But you,” his tongue darts out, tasting my bottom lip, “you love disobeying me. Such a glutton for punishment. Daddy’s little brat.” 

Holy fucking shit. The heat that surges through me acts like a shock to my system, somehow I remember to breathe. I feel his other hand gripping my ass and pulling me towards him. “Clearly you need a reminder of the rules you love to break. And no amount of pleading will save you from what you’ve done.” 

“What’d I do?” I don’t think, the words just rush out. 

Victor chuckles, the sound deep and teasing, “You think you can fool me by playing innocent? I know you better than that, kitten. You like to act an angel, but the fucking second I’m balls deep in your little pussy,” his hand on my ass reaches lower, promptly rubbing and pinching my other lips. I gasp and grip onto his forearm, the one attached to the hand still grasping my throat. 

“God it makes my cock throb, thinking about pounding inside that tight hole.” 

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I am vanilla.” my face is so hot, if I had a fire mutant power, I definitely would’ve caught on fire by now. Victor laughs, releasing me entirely and stepping back to check on the stew. I grip the island counter; I feel like all the blood in my body just rushed to my head. If this is a tiny glimpse into what Victor is into, I’m unsure if I want to know the rest. Perhaps it’s best if I don’t get too invested anyhow. It’s not like he’s going to stay with me, despite how much I want him to. Once the boss has married off his daughter and the Kingpin returns to New York City, Victor will leave. And I’ll be alone again. 

* * *

The club is not so crowded tonight. There’s still a copious amount of clientele, there always is, but compared to other nights, this is a slow night. There’s only one VIP room booked for the evening; a group of young men who are fortunately respectful drunks. The Boss nor Victor are anywhere to be seen. Considering the wedding’s tomorrow, I doubt the Boss will show his face at all. I’d asked every staff member in the club if they knew about his daughter. Apparently, most didn’t know about her. I don’t think she’s ever shown up at the club, at least not since I started working here. Funny thing is, the boss hates kids. What made him want to adopt Gloria? 

“Earth to Harmony!” Tracee is waving her hands in my face. I blink rapidly, surprised I zoned out- I never do that. 

“Sorry, I was thinking about something.” 

“More like someone,” she plants her hands on her hips, “how’s your neck?” 

The bite doesn’t even itch anymore. “You know anything about the boss’s daughter?” I say. 

Tracee shrugs, “No, nothing. I’ve seen her come in here once, but I didn’t know she’s his kid… Now that I think about it, remember a long time ago, when that mobster got shot outside the Chicago theatre?” 

Who wouldn’t remember that? It made national news. One fatal Wednesday night, a drug lord decided to visit Chicago broadway to see the latest rendition of a Raisin in the Sun with his wife. He didn’t even make it inside the theatre. He was shot forty three times, his wife nineteen times, in a drive by. 

“He and the boss were good friends if I recall,” Tracee continues, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a daughter no one knew about. Guys who are that far into the drug game, you’d never see their kids in public.” 

“But what about her brother, Kurt? He looks nothing like her, but they’re siblings.” 

“Well, he’s a mutant right? If he wasn’t as dark as night and didn’t have shiny eyes, I’d bet they’d look pretty similar.” 

“But Kurt’s from Germany.” 

“And it so happens that our dead drug lord was a German immigrant.” 

Huh. “So you’re saying the boss adopted the daughter… but not Kurt?” 

“You told me before, Kurt was born in Germany. That likely means he and his sister have different mothers.” 

“Oh- it’s all clicking together… is that why the boss is always making me speak German? ‘Cause his friend was German?” 

“Likely.” Tracee pushes towards me a bucket full of ice and patron. 

* * *

I dig my hands far into my wool coat, walking as fast as I could in six inch heeled booties. I don’t know what possessed me to wear these, especially during winter when the sidewalks can be slippery. But at least I look cute. When I finally reach the apartment building, none other than Lennie sits on the bottom step of the main stairway. He’s smoking a joint as usual, the puffs of vapor look like thick wisps of cotton in the freezing air. 

I pause. He didn’t notice me. He seems distracted- disturbed almost, as if he’d seen something or someone he’d wish he could unsee. 

“You alright Lennie?” I hope he isn’t having another episode. How long has he been out here? 

Black eyes snap out of their stupor and he drops his joint, “Goddammit woman!” he reaches down to grab his weed, but it's sodden from falling in a wet pile of muddy snow. “You shouldn’ sneak up on a’ old man. Coulda gave me a aneurysm.” 

I roll my eyes- drama queen. I was about to continue past him up the stairs, but he grasps my arm in a weak grip. His hand is shaking; I realize now he’s not merely perturbed, but completely terrified. 

“Listen Harmony. I don’t ask tenants about they’s business. But… Are you in some form of trouble?” 

I give him a quizzical look, “No- what’s this all about.” 

“When I was in ‘Nam… there was- Jesus imma sound like a crazy man- but I know what I saw! I don’t ever forget a face!” 

My heart picks up in pace, “Lennie. You smoke too much weed.” 

“We called him the ‘White Devil’. He was a platoon officer, he… he killed a lot of people in ‘Nam. On both sides. He disappeared during the war, everyone assumed he got killed. But that man… he was a fuckin’ psychopath. What he did to those women… to children… I don’t forget a face Harmony, I know who I saw.” 

“What does he look like.” even as I say it I don’t want to know the answer. 

“A big man. The biggest man I’d ever seen. Wide shoulders, like a linebacker. Blonde. Blue eyes. Has fuckin’ fangs for Godsake!” 

“Don’t worry Lennie, I’ll be fine.” I continue up the stairs, ignoring the landlord’s pleas to be cautious. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. If anything I’m upset; he knew I wouldn’t be home, so why the fuck is he at my house? My aggravation increases as I turn the handle of my front door. I never leave my door unlocked if I’m not home. How the hell did he get inside without a key? My heart painfully throbs in my chest. Lennie’s words replay in my head as I step inside my apartment. 

_ ‘He killed a lot of people’. ‘What he did to those women… to children.’  _

I let out a slow breath, Victor has never hurt me. He’s been nothing but good to me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Lennie smokes too much. 

“Victor?” I call out as I shrug off my coat and unlace my shoes. On the way to the kitchen, I see he isn’t passed out on the couch. I plop my purse on the island and head up the stairs to my bedroom. I hold back a groan; of course he’s asleep in my bed. The blankets cover his hips and everything above is bare. His arms engulf a pillow and his head is snuggled into it. I let an exacerbated sigh- I’m way too tired to deal with this. It’ll have to wait until morning. 

After going through my usual night routine, I slip into comfortable silk pajamas and slip into bed beside him. I lay on my side, staring at his slumbering face. It’s difficult to believe this man, this man who’s so gentle with me, could be a psychopath. Lily said he’s a mercenary. Now Lennie claims he’s a ‘White Devil’. And Tracee has strongly stated her opinion, “you should’ve fucked him and left him in the streets, like you were supposed to.” she had said as we walked to work. She doesn’t like that he bit me. 

Careful not to wake him, I slip my fingers through his blonde tresses. I’m not even mad anymore. It’s not like he broke into my home and fucked shit up. Everything is exactly as I’d left it. My bed sheets and comforter had been replaced, Victor saw to that himself. Whatever he picked out is comfortable as hell, yet my eyes are wide awake. Even as time passes and the room gradually fills with sunlight, I can’t fall asleep. It doesn’t help that my brain reminds me it's Friday, Gloria’s wedding day, the last day the Kingpin will be in town, and likely the last time I’ll see Victor ever again. I must’ve done something to offend God. Why put a man in my life just to take him away? 

“You’re still awake, kitten?” Victor’s gruff and sleepy voice disperses my thoughts. With ease, he pulls me to him, entrapping me in his warm embrace. It feels so natural, as if we’d been doing this for years. I wrap my arms around his neck and burrow my face in the crook of his neck. 

“Please don’t go.” tears well in my eyes. 

“I don’t have to go anywhere for a little while.” I feel his hands rub my back leisurely. 

“I mean don’t leave. Don’t leave Chicago,” I hold on tighter, “Don’t leave me.” 

His hands still. “Harmony-” 

“I want to be with you! I want everything you can give, your good side, your bad side, every little detail you're willing to spare,” my voice breaks but I’m determined not to cry. I grasps his face in my hands, staring straight into his eyes. I need him to see I’m not joking around. I need him to see my desperation. “I want your body. I want your heart… I want you. So please, don’t go. Stay with me.” 

Victor is quiet. And as the silence lingers, my nerves become terribly erratic. I don’t need a whole speech, a simple yes or no would suffice. But he just stares at me, the black of his eyes are dilated. 

“Harmony,” he breaks the silence and I inhale deeply, not noticing I’d been holding my breath. “If you knew even a quarter of the things I’ve done in the past, you wouldn’t want shit to do with me. I’ve done fucked up shit… I’ve done things that are irredeemable.” 

Lennie words replay in my mind. 

“That’s all in the past, it doesn’t matter now.” I say. 

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” 

“You’re not the only one with blood on their hands. We’re not so different.” 

  
“Baby, I’m not trying to downplay what you’ve been through, but killing in self defense and killing because you felt like it… because it made you feel good. Powerful… I wish I could take back all the despair I’ve caused to others, but I can’t.”

Victor wipes my cheeks with his thumbs, nonetheless the tears keep falling. “I’m not changing my mind. It doesn’t matter what you tell me.” 

“You don’t understand kitten,” Victor gently pulls away from my embrace. “I can’t escape my past, no matter where I go I remain a target on someone’s hit list. You don’t think I’ve tried allowing myself a small slice of normalcy?… If anything happened to you baby, it’d be an eternity of remorse. Even being here with you now is extremely selfish.” 

He sits at the edge of the bed, his back to me. I wipe at my eyes, frustrated that I can’t stop sobbing. “You want to know why my Ex left me? He found out I was a mutant. And let him tell it, ‘mutants are a cursed breed’,” I thought my fiance was perfect. He was sweet and kind. He had showered me with spoils and affection. But it was all a ruse. The look of betrayal and disgust on his face is forever engraved in memory. He was not perfect. His sweetness and kindness decayed into bitterness and anger. 

“I can’t take anymore heartache Victor. If… if this is the end of us, then it's  _ the _ end. I don’t ever want to see you again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It completely slipped my mind, but this story takes place in the 90s. Hence the constant use of 90s and older songs. And some other 90s references. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	11. 11

I stand barefoot on white sand, staring out into Lake Michigan. Despite it being called a ‘lake’ I’ve always thought of it as a sea. A miniature ocean with its own wonders and terrors. The water reflects the cool grey of the sky. The waves are gentle this morning. The wind bites at my skin, whips my hair back and stings my eyes. Water rushes up the bank, touches my toes, and recedes back.

I shrug off my coat and leave it on the sand as I step further into the grey calm. Even as the water rises over my hips and my feet barely touch the descending beach I continue on. And when I’m finally submerged beneath, the world goes quiet. I don’t feel cold. As I sink down, the light of the dim sun gradually vanishes. It’s not entirely black, but dark enough. Whitefish scatter pass me, seaweed as tall as houses tickle at my feet. I close my eyes and feel the embrace of water. It always reminds me of a tight hug from a friend you hadn’t seen in a long long time, warm and firm. All of my worries and sadness are left behind on the surface. In this world, there is only silence.

Years have passed since my seance with this power of mine. Water is an unusual and magical thing. It's sentient, it feels and understands and comforts. It knows patience, and it knows rage. Despite pushing away from my power, it never goes away. Like a mother awaiting her child to return it lingers within me. And when I do call upon it, there is something akin to unconditional love, something unyielding and forgiving. I close my eyes and drown in the feeling, clinging to it desperately. No one has died, but I haven’t felt this way since I’d lost my father. Like a piece of my soul lies shattered on the floor, and now the remaining has to figure out how to keep itself together. I still haven’t slept. And even now my body refuses to lull itself out of reality. My only comfort is with a power I don’t use. Why do I do that? Why do I shut it away? I’ve always told myself it's for my father’s sake, but he’s been gone for years. There’s no excuses anymore. 

I open my eyes. Nothing has changed, there is only stillness and silence. As much as I want to stay here forever I can’t ignore the surface world. I’ve gone through worse in my life; one way or another life goes on. I swim back towards the beach and when I’m close enough to the dipping sand bed I choose to walk, prolonging my time in the water as much as possible. But eventually I emerge to the surface, dripping and sodden.

I grab my coat and boots off the sand and trot over to the boardwalk. With some concentration, I focus on my drenched skin, clothes, and hair and will water to flow back into the lake. It’s a neat little trick I learned and the only time I willingly use my powers. I put on my shoes and boots. The sun is out now; the sea has turned a brilliant shade of cerulean and sparkles like hundreds of thousands of crystals. It is how it looked when I almost dragged my father to the bottom of it- and for a strange reason I laugh at the traumatizing memory. The same power I had used to drag him into the lake, is the same power that dragged him out of it. 

* * *

I still haven’t slept, but I don’t feel the need to go home. Instead I find myself before two bronze lions, the ‘guardian’ protectors of the Art Institute of Chicago. It's one of my favorite places in the city to visit; other than being a plethora of creative knowledge it also gives me a similar feeling of when I’m in water. To be surrounded by works of art is comforting and it’s a great distractor. I walk through grand halls, passing countless works of art. I don’t know how much time passes by when I find myself before a massive painting. It’s the final part of a collection by a Russian artist, depicting the narrative of a couple’s perilous journey after surviving the Chernobyl disaster. The painting’s background is entirely black and in the very center is a small circle of dimming light encasing an infant wrapped in his mother’s hand knit scarf. His parents lived long enough to bring him into the world, and they passed shortly after. A bittersweet end. 

“Truly a tragic story, no?” I almost flinch out of my skin from the sudden voice. I hold my heart, glancing up at the man who somehow managed to sneak up on me. The first thing I notice is his skin. It’s strange- not quite metallic but not a normal beige. Long blonde hair cascades down lumber shoulders. He doesn’t have pupils, just glowing yellow eyes, like a cat’s eyes in the moonlight. He’s wearing a red turtleneck, red trousers, and a long blood red trench coat, with red dress shoes to match. 

“Um… yeah, it is a sad story.” I say. 

“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you,” he has a thick Russian accent, “My name is Arkady Rossovich.” he holds out his hand which I reluctantly shake. 

“The man who made these paintings, we grew up in the same hometown.”

“Is that so.” small world. 

“I recall him as a gloomy boy. It was quite the surprise he became so famous.” 

“He’s still gloomy.” I’d never met the man, but I’d read all about him. 

“Forgive me,” Arkaday stares down at me, and his eyes flash like a car’s headlights. He’s definitely a mutant. “It is not my intention to be intrusive, but it is hard to ignore a young beautiful woman in distress.” 

Me? In distress? What could have possibly given it away? Maybe the dark lines under my eyes, or the lack of makeup in general. It’s certainly been a while since I’d left the house without foundation on my face. 

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.” I say. 

“You do not have to confide your worries to me, _malyshka._ But I do hope that cloud of gloom does not follow you around the rest of the day.” and just as abrupt as Arkaday appeared, he is gone. I watch him disappear into the North Africa exhibit. I mentally slap myself; I should’ve given that man my name, he could’ve been a potential customer. 

* * *

The way home is a solemn journey. I stopped by a cafe after my stomach growled for the umpteenth time. I couldn't even stomach a full meal, so I nibbled on a plain bagel and sipped ginger tea, hoping it's enough to appease my hunger. I thought about stopping by the art center to check if the Kingpin’s money came through, but I don’t want to harass Linda. She’s an honest woman, I know she’ll contact me when it's time.

By the time I slump back into my studio apartment the sun is almost below the horizon. I hate that I have to get ready for work. I wish I could curl under my blankets and lie in bed for the remainder of the night. But I haven’t washed my bed sheets, and I don’t want to smell him there. I don’t want to be reminded of him. Tracee comes by around seven, bringing our usual Chinese takeout. I try eating again, but the most I get down is a few bites of fried rice and a spring roll. For once, Tracee doesn’t prod at me- and I know she knows there’s something wrong. The walk to work is a silent venture. And I’m almost glad to see the huge line waiting outside the main club entrance. It’ll be a busy night. 

Gentlemen’s Paradise reached max capacity tonight. All the VIP rooms are booked out. Everyone is working double time, trying to keep up with rowdy clientele- and to think it’s not even ten at night yet. There’s no room to stop and chat with Tracee between bucket runs. The moment she hands me a ice filled bucket with liquor bottles I’m off back to the VIP area. Just as I’m about to rush back downstairs Lily stops me. 

“Harmony!” she has to yell over the loud music and general noise of the crowd, “Someone’s asking for you in the back!” 

“Who?!” 

“I don’t know, some new guy!” she speeds past me. 

I groan and dash down to the main floor, pushing past gross, sweaty men until finally reaching the do not enter door for employees. Past the small kitchen area there’s another door that leads to a back alley where the dumpsters are. Just before the exit, I pause, my eyes widening like a deer in headlights as I watch Kurt pace back and forth. When he notices me a huge smile spreads on his lips. 

“Harmony! Thank God you’re here!” He suddenly embraces me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders in a firm hug. 

“Uh, nice to see you too?” 

“Quickly! There’s no time to explain!” 

Before I can question what he means, there’s a POOF and in the blink of an eye we’re in a different room. But it’s not the club, there’s no white walls in the club. White fabrics and sewing machines, and irons and steamers are sporadically spread everywhere. It takes everything in me to remain calm. 

“Kurt? Where the hell are we?” Did this man just kidnap me? 

“We are in desperate need of your help Harmony!” Kurt holds my hands, perhaps sensing that I want to swing on him. 

“I’m supposed to be working! We have a full house I can’t just leave-” 

“We don’t need you for long, it's just, we booked a singer for the day. And everything was going fine. But she got sick and had to go home early and I’d been told you sing-” 

“Who the hell told you I sing? I don’t do that!” 

“V-Victor Creed. He said you sing. Do you not sing? I don’t know any other singers, Harmony,” Kurt starts breathing as if he's in the middle of an asthma attack, “I promised my sister the perfect wedding, we need a singer!” 

“Calm down Kurt.” Jesus Christ, of course Victor is involved. 

“Please Harmony. There’s no time. Gloria picked out a song for her husband and the only one who can sing it is you! Please say you’ll do it!” 

I seem to have an unwanted talent of finding myself in awkward situations. There was no time to put on something decent for a wedding. So while everyone before me is wearing their Sunday best, I’m hoping my hot pink mini skirt doesn’t hitch above my ass. At least I went with the long sleeved white bodysuit and not the crop top. I had to undo my hair from its bun and pull over my shoulders to somewhat cover up the cleavage peeking out a round neckline. 

“Um…” I accidentally speak into the microphone and feel my whole face heat up like a hot comb. Wow there’s a lot of people here. The Bride and Groom table is closest to me, Gloria is smiling up at me. The source of my anxiety is the next table over. Victor sits by the Boss and the Kingpin; his amber eyes won’t look away. I look down at my feet; I’m so glad Tracee made me paint my toenails. 

_It’s just one song, Harmony. One song and you can go back to work._

I glance at the DJ parked in the far corner of the room and nod for the music. In seconds the sound flares to life, the acoustics in the massive hall create a subtle echo effect. I close my eyes, the sound is sensual and passionate, like a slow burning flame. I bring the mic to my lips and take a deep breath, 

“I look in your eyes and I can see. We've loved so dangerously. You're not trusting your heart to anyone,” I sway to Chaka Khan’s 'Through the Fire'. 

“You tell me you're gonna play it smart. We're through before we start. But I believe that we've only just begun,” I hate that I think about Victor. How he’s afraid to be close to me, afraid to feel something he thinks he doesn’t deserve. 

“When it's this good, there's no saying no. I want you so, I'm ready to go,” I open my eyes and I can’t help staring straight at him, pouring out the last bit of emotion I have left towards him. Perhaps he’ll understand this time; perhaps he’ll finally see what I see. 

“Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall! For a chance to be with you, I'd gladly risk it all!” my voice booms in the hall, I’m not just singing. I feel every word. 

“Through the fire, through whatever, come what may! For a chance at loving you, I'd take it all the way! Right down to the wire, even through the fire,” I feel tears streaking down my cheeks; we both have pain from our pasts, blood on our hands. I can’t help him escape his pain, but I would be there for him. Just as I know he would be there for me. 

“I know you're afraid of what you feel. You still need time to heal. And I can help if you'll only let me try. You touched me and something in me knew. What I could have with you. Now I'm not ready to kiss that dream goodbye,” Perhaps our time together was too short to know for sure. But I know I want more time. More opportunities to know him, because he’s given me something I've never had.

“When it's this sweet, there's no saying no. I need you so, I'm ready to go,” Please, Victor, please give us a chance. 

“Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall! For a chance to be with you, I'd gladly risk it all! Through the fire, through whatever, come what may! For a chance at loving you, I'd take it all the way! Right down to the wire, even through the fire.”

Everyone sings along to the final chorus, clapping along to the beat. When the song finally ends there’s a resounding encore. I hide my face with my hands, trying to stop crying before I completely ruin my makeup. 

“Here, use some of mine.” I peek behind fingers and Gloria is in front of me, holding out a box of tissues. Her eyes are also a little red from crying. I thank her and dab at my eyes, careful not to smudge my eyeliner and mascara. 

“That was… Harmony, I’ve never heard someone sing like that. Had I known, I would’ve hired you from the get go.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Why do I get this feeling that song was meant for someone?” there’s an inquisitive grin on her lips. 

“Well.” because it was. 

* * *

After a series of compliments, I was finally ready to go back to the club. Just as I change trajectory to find Kurt, I’m suddenly grabbed by the shoulder. 

“Hey!” I go to pull away until I realize who it is. Wilson Fisk stares down at me, a subtle grin on his lips. 

“I’m sorry Harmony. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“It’s okay. Nice to see you again.” I scold myself for reacting so harshly. The last thing I want is to insult the man who gave me a shit ton of cash. 

“You are a woman of many talents it seems. Your performance was truly phenomenal.” his blue eyes are like the ocean in summertime. Warm and inviting. 

I feel my cheeks burn, “Th-thank you.” 

“If you are not too busy for the remainder of the night, I am hosting a private event at my penthouse in downtown chicago. You are more than welcome to join me.” 

I clench my jaw to keep my mouth from hanging open. Is this man, _the_ crimelord of New York, making a move on me? I don’t know whether to feel scared or flattered. 

“I’m actually supposed to be at the club right now, and I’m working the rest of the night, so I don’t think I can make your party.” 

“I’m sure Reginald’s establishment can function without your presence-” 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I hold in a sigh of relief as the Boss approaches. “It’s bad enough Kurt brought her here. She is a civilian, you can’t-” 

“Oh, but I can Reginald. And Harmony is an exceptional individual, it would be a disservice to let potential plunge into waste.” 

Why do I feel like I’ve been dragged into something I am clearly not privy to. “Um. I don’t understand what’s happening here.” I say. The Kingpin smiles, taking my hands in a reassuring gesture. 

“I have an opportunity for you, my dear. A chance to fulfill your greatest dream.” 

I stare back and forth between Kingpin and the Boss, unsure of how I’m supposed to respond. “An opportunity?” What the hell is going on here? 

“Yes. Back in New York I’m currently constructing a contemporary institution for the arts and I have been searching for months to find the right person to run it. I wholeheartedly believe you are the woman for the job.” 

“Holy shit.” the words just slip out. There’s no fucking way I heard that right. 

“I’ve done my research. You have an extraordinary presence in this city, and I simply want to bring that energy into mine.” 

“Don’t listen to him Harmony, he’s nothing but a greedy bastard,” The boss seethes. “There’s nothing special about you, he’s boasting so you're easier to use.” 

Wow. Did he really think he was saving me with that statement? “I think I will join you at your party, Wilson.” 

It felt kind of strange sitting across from Kingpin in a luxurious limousine. The windows are tinted, and there are black SUVs in front and behind the vehicle. I wish I had a chance to change clothes, but my choice of outfit doesn’t seem to bother the older man. I wonder what possessed the Boss to feel like he had to speak on my behalf, as if I’m not a grown woman. Maybe it wasn’t really about me, more so to upset the Kingpin. And Victor had a lot of words to say about Wilson Fisk but he left me to my own devices. On the way out of the wedding reception, I had spotted him- we had even locked eyes yet he just let me go. Maybe he’s already over me; I’m trying not to care. 

“Something’s on your mind,” Kingpin conveys, “I assure you, I intend no harm.” 

“I know that, it’s just… you can’t convince me there isn’t anyone more qualified to run your art center.” 

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I’ve received hundreds of applications for the position, plenty have more experience than you.” 

“So then… why me?” 

“When I was your age, I had no money and the only people who knew my name were my parents who are in the grave. All I had was a dream and relentless initiative. A decade later and I won New York City. To this day, it rests in the palm of my hand. Sure, I could have picked some rando who was raised without a single worry. But those kinds of people prove a lack of grit. They don’t know what it means to chase after something, no matter the costs. 

There’s no such thing as coincidences in business. You are a hardworking woman with talent, integrity, and a dream. There is relentlessness there, the same that made me the King of New York. That is the potential I see in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story. I do put a lot of thought into the chapters and it makes my heart smile when I see Kudos and comments, so thank you!


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First update of the year! Despite the crazy shit going on in the world I truly hope life is treating everyone well. It makes my day when I see comments about the story so thanks for all the nice comments and kudos, I really do appreciate them! And as always, thanks for reading!

The penthouse is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A massive chandelier with crystallized bulbs illuminates a massive antechamber. The room gives off an art deco vibe, you can see cohesive and dramatic patterns in almost everything- whether it be the wallpaper or the gigantic rugs splayed on the floor. Considering the building's age, the old style is not surprising to me but I’ve never been a fan of it. 

There’s a long table near a window wall with a view of Lake Michigan. An attendant stands near, serving refreshments to a handful of men and women dressed in business attire. I pull at my skirt and stare at my feet; maybe I've bit off more than I can chew coming here. I wish I could’ve at least had the opportunity to change clothes- when you work at a club you pick your outfit based on how well you want to be tipped. And since the clientele are horny men, typically wearing less gets you more money. But I doubt my scant attire will help me interact with these kinds of people. Are they all into crime like the Kingpin? 

“You think too much Harmony,” Kingpin conveys, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “Perhaps you need something to calm your nerves?” he motions to an attendant who brings over a platter topped with champagne filled glasses. I thank the man and take a small sip of wine, even though I want to chug it. I revel in the warmth spreading in my stomach. Much better. 

“Come, I want you to meet someone.” he holds out his hand and as I slip my own into his palm it's impossible not to notice the size difference. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could fit a single hand around my waist and the strength etched into defined muscle definitely could send someone to the hospital- or six feet under. 

Kingpin leads me into a sectioned off lounge, containing a few long and black leather couches. Sitting by herself is a rather pale woman dressed in a tailored dark red jumpsuit with flared leg pants and an even darker red blazer covers her arms and shoulders. Her black stilettos are the same shade of black as her hair, cascading down her shoulders in smooth shiny waves. Blue eyes glance my way for a single second, before flickering to the large man beside me. 

“You’ve brought her here.” her voice is suave, but has a biting tone to it. 

The Kingpin smiles, his hand slides up my arm and gently presses in between my shoulder blades. “I apologize for her rudeness, Harmony. This is Elektra.” 

Elektra pouts painted red lips. “So you're going to go against everything I’ve said.” 

“Should you accept my offer Harmony, Elektra will be your own personal assistant. She’ll help you with whatever you need.” 

“You haven’t accepted?” Elektra’s eyes light up. She rushes from her seat, coming towards me in a hurry. She’s a little taller than me, and I’m pretty sure we’re both wearing six inch heels. She looks down at me, concern sketched in her face. 

_ No matter what you can’t accept Harmony.  _

Her lips don’t move, but I hear her voice clear as day. I stare up at the Kingpin, wondering if he caught what she said. But he just looks at me, that same inviting warmth in his eyes. 

“Elektra is a little skeptical of you,” he says, his hand on my back inches down my spine decidedly resting on my lower back- a little too close to my ass for comfort. “She doesn’t think you can handle the position. But I have faith you’ll do just fine.” 

“I’m not skeptical,” Elektra folds her arms, glaring at the Kingpin, “I just think she looks a little too-” 

“Boss!” suddenly a man practically trips over his own feet, hurrying into the room. He reminds me of a secret service agent, clad in black and white with the black sunglasses to match. 

“We’ve got a pro- AH!” The man is grabbed by the back of his suit collar and lifted into the air, as if he weighed less than a stuffed teddy bear. The Kingpin’s face hardens, the heat in his eyes solidifying into ice. My heart thuds painfully in my chest; what the hell is this asshole doing here? 

“Sabretooth,” Elektra places her hands on her hips, “Why is Weapon X’s mutt here?” 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Victor seethes. The black of his eyes are slits, revealing a wild, intense amber. He’s maybe ten steps away from me, his whole body tense as if the slightest movement will send him into attack mode. 

“Which one? Mutt? Or Sabretooth?” Elektra pokes, causing a low growl to emerge from his throat. She holds up her hands, “Sorry, sorry. I forget. You don’t go by that anymore.” 

“Why are you here?” I hate that my voice cracks, but it’s barely been twenty four hours since he wounded my heart. I hate how he looks at me, the anger in his eyes washing away leaving behind an affectionate gaze. 

“I’m taking you home.” Victor says. 

He’s lost his mind. Somehow, his brain hopped out of his skull and is lying on a dirty sidewalk somewhere in Chicago. This unbearable man clearly doesn’t comprehend the meaning of “I never want to see you again.” The Kingpin is relatively calm, even though I’m sure Victor was not invited to the penthouse gathering. How’d he even get up here? The elevator won’t even move for this level unless you have the keycard or the front desk lets you up. 

“What?” maybe I didn’t hear him right. There’s no way he wasted precious time breaking into a crime lord's domain to come for me. 

“I’m taking you home, right now.” Victor steps forward and Elektra places herself in front of me- successfully shielding me from his view. 

“Still the same brute.” she tsks.

“Get out of the way, woman.” he snarls, his lips pull back revealing his sharp canines. 

“Still so forceful too.” 

“Stand down.” The Kingpin’s voice is calm but resolute, demanding complete obedience from both parties. Elektra pouts, side eyeing the crime lord. I hate that Victor is making such a scene. Maybe I’ve overestimated his intelligence. 

“It’s alright,” I tap Elektra’s shoulder and although reluctantly she turns to the side allowing me to step forward. “Thank you for the offer Wilson. Could you give me some time to think about it?” 

“Of course.” he nods. 

As soon as I’m close enough Victor grabs my hand, practically dragging me towards the only way out- the penthouse elevator. The moment the golden metal doors slide closed something within me snaps. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh!” there’s already tears building in the corner of my eyes. 

“What part of I don’t want to see your face ever again do you not get?” 

Victor points an accusatory finger at me, “I’ve told you,  _ sweetheart _ , not to involve yourself with that man. But it seems you're set on ruining your life.” 

“Christ you’re such a fucking headache! You can’t break my heart and still try to act like you get a fucking say in any part of my life-” 

Suddenly I feel a sharp sting as if someone slapped my back a little too hard. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I’m pressed into the elevator wall, Victor’s arms successfully block me from any attempt of escape. The black of his eyes are slits, his lips are pulled up into a wild snarl revealing sharp canine teeth, and his breathing is slow but laboured. I’ve never seen him like this and it’s frightening me. 

“Victor,” I say with the utmost caution, “calm down.” he looks so wound up, like a big cat preparing to pounce on its prey. He shut his eyes and grits his teeth, but eventually he relents. He backs away, turning so he won’t have to face me. 

“I’m sorry.” he says quietly. 

* * *

My mood soured even more as I stepped outside onto a snow covered sidewalk. I hold my arms, cursing over and over under my breath. 

_ Stupid fucking weather. Stupid fucking Victor. Stupid fucking decision to wear the shortest skirt in winter.  _

I continue down the sidewalk, knowing the walk home would be painfully cold, but I’d rather get frostbite then spend another nano second of my time with that dumbfuck. 

“Harmony, get your ass back here!” Victor calls out, but I keep walking. 

“Get the fuck back here, NOW!” 

I flinch, immediately pausing. I glance behind me and my breath catches in my throat. Even in the dark his amber eyes pierce through. His face is twisted in anger, an expression I’ve never had to see until recently. I want to keep going out of spite, but my nagging conscious betrays me. The train is closed anyhow, and I don’t have my wallet so I wouldn’t be able to hail a taxi. Pure stubbornness would have me walk home from downtown Chicago in six inch heels. Just as I finally make my way, purposely slow, back to him his car pulls around the corner. A valet gets out the front seat. Victor holds the passenger door open, waiting until I’m secure in the seat before shutting the door. 

The moment the car is pulled from the curb I’m being chewed out. “You need to stay away from him Harmony.” 

“From who.” I lean against the car door, hand holding my head. From my peripheral the snowfall is worsening; I should have asked Tracee how the weather would be for the week, she always knows. 

“You know exactly who the fuck I’m talking about. And whatever offer he made you, forget it.” Victor spouts firmly. 

“Last I checked I’m grown and I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m well aware you’re an  _ independent woman _ .” 

I roll my eyes, “I don’t have to listen to you.” 

“No. You don’t, but you will. Because if you don’t, I’ll have no other choice.” 

I peek at him from the corner of my eyes, “What are you getting at?” 

“I’ll have to kill him.” 

My eyes tear away from the window, gawking at him. And even worse, he seems way calmer compared to the last twenty minutes. And of course, Lennie’s words replay in my head like a broken record.  _ We called him the “White Devil’.  _

“I don’t believe you.” 

“You don’t have to believe anything, kitten.”

The car pulls up in front of the apartment complex. Despite the last hour being a pure headache, I don’t hop out the car and run for the hills. I sit in my seat, not even unbuckling my seatbelt, watching the windshield wipers clean the heavy snowfall off the front glass. The plows haven’t made the rounds yet, and since this is a side street it likely won’t be clear until tomorrow morning; it’d be dangerous to drive in these conditions. 

“You can sleep on the couch.” I say quickly, unable to overthink the decision. Victor glances down at me, a smirk gracing his lips. I hold my breath, already regretting making the offer. I have to resist holding my face as an uncomfortable heat fills my cheeks. I really just said that? What if he thinks I want to have sex with him? I probably would if he initiated, I don’t hate the man. But he really hurt me. And if I have sex with him, he’ll think I’m easy. I don’t want to be easy- that one night stand should have stayed a one night stand. 

“Look at me, kitten,” Victor’s soft voice makes my cheeks burn even more, like hot coals are pressed into my skin. I stare up at him and my heart flutters. Whatever anger he had at the hotel has completely vanished. His expression is tender. Why did god make him so handsome? 

  
“Are you sure?” he finishes. 

I’m not sure at all. “It’s not safe to drive on the road with the snow like this. So, yeah, I’m sure.” 

The moment I get the front door open I rush into my apartment, kicking off my heels and heading towards the kitchen to fill the tea kettle with water. I’m shivering like crazy, it’s weird how my body feels cold. When I was submerged in Lake Michigan I didn’t feel a thing but on land it's like my immunity disappears. While the kettle warms up on the stove I do my usual night routine. Once I’m in my favorite sweat pants and fuzzy night sweater I fill a mug with chamomile tea and sit at the island. 

My hands are wrapped around the mug, the heat feels great on my palms. I can’t help but peek at Victor every other second. A few minutes ago he was on the phone with, who I assume was, the boss. Then he stripped down to his underwear and now lies on the couch. He doesn’t have a blanket and I’m annoyed he didn’t ask for one. Against my better judgement I go back upstairs and after rummaging under my bed produce a proper comforter. I have a strong impulse to throw it on him but that’d be kind of childish. Tomorrow he’ll be officially out of my life for good. Being overly petty now would make me look desperate. 

“Here.” I spread out the blanket, promptly covering him. He genuinely seems surprised, his eyes thankful but he doesn’t say anything. I can’t help the smile forming on my face. 

* * *

_ I can’t see anything but a small faint light dimly unveiling a massive figure slumped against what appears to be brick. I hold my arms, rubbing them and shivering but the attempts are fruitless. My teeth literally chatter, loud enough for the unknown figure to hear but it makes no indication to my presence. I gradually get closer, not particularly scared but definitely wary. As I get closer more details start to come to light; a hulking body covered in a thin layer of blonde hair. Even longer blonde hair curtains its face, its long tresses almost reaching the floor. Chains are linked around its wrists and ankles, and there’s large spots of dried up blood where its feet are. I get closer and I realize just how small I am, like a mouse gazing at a tiger.  _

_ “Hello?” my voice is small and high pitched like a child’s.  _

_ The figure moves, adjusting its slumped position. Its hair veil allows a single amber pupil to peek through. Victor?  _

_ “Are you okay?” I ask, moving forward but he suddenly shrinks into himself. His hands fly over his head as if something was about to fall on him.  _

_ “Hey, I won’t hurt you!” I say, he’s way bigger than me anyhow- so why cower?  _

_ “Go away.” his voice is way, way deep, what I would imagine the deep grumble of Leviathan to sound like.  _

_ “You look like you need help?”  _

_ “Leave me alone.”  _

_ “But…”  _

_ “I am… I will be alright, little one. Please. I want to be alone.”  _

_ He seems certain, even though I feel like the last thing he needs is to be alone. But if it's what he wants… I relent, and turn my back to Victor. There’s only darkness ahead of me, but I am unwanted in this dim lit space. Nonetheless, I must continue on, perhaps there is another light somewhere in the vast emptiness. I may have taken a few steps when a sudden, almost blinding, light opens in the space- like a door swinging open. A colossal figure, even larger than Victor steps through the light. It is in the shape of a man, but his features are blurred. It’s like I’m looking through a camera and can’t get the focus right.  _

_ “Please,” Victor shudders and caves further into himself, “don’t hurt me. I’ve been so good, I haven’t made a peep. Please don’t hurt me, Pa.”  _

_ Pa? This thing is his father? I try making a run for it, but I’m caught, the creature gripping my neck in between its forefinger and thumb. I scream and thrash but it's pointless.  _

_ “Open your mouth.” its voice bellows, rattling my bones. My mouth drops open and no matter how much I will it, it won’t close. I feel a firm grip on my top left canine tooth and my heart drops. No, no, no, no, no.  _

_ “I will purge these devil teeth, no matter how many times it takes.” and with a harsh force, my tooth is ripped out of my gum.  _

I suck in a breath as I sit up, my heart racing. Immediately my hand reaches into my mouth and feels along my top row teeth. Nothing is amiss. I sigh, thankful it was all just a god awful nightmare. I’m sweating out of every pore in my body and I feel gross. I’m not sure what prompted such a horrid dream, maybe Victor’s departure is affecting me more than I realize. I lie back down, my eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. After about an hour I give up and get out of bed. It’s still dark outside, the snowfall hasn’t lightened up. 

I go downstairs, placing the tea kettle back on the stove eye. My clothes are soaked in sweat, so I change out of them, this time throwing on shorts and a tank top. I go into the bathroom and rinse my face with cold water. Then pat my neck and chest with a cold wet towel. The tea kettle isn’t boiling yet, but it's hot enough. I make another cup of tea, this time choosing peppermint. When the cup is empty, I sit at the island for a while. I don’t want to go back to bed. I don’t want to be alone. 

I don’t know what possesses me. I’m moving without thinking at all. I stare down at Victor; an arm is propped over his eyes, the other hanging limply off the couch. I pull back the comforter, just enough for me to climb on top of him. I place my head on his chest. I can hear his breathing and the subtle thump of his heart. I feel his arms wrap around me, one hand rubbing up and down my back. A gentle purr begins in his chest. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep again. 

* * *

“So… is Sabretooth, like, your hitman name or something?” I also remember Elektra calling Victor a ‘mutt’ but I’m pretty sure that isn’t a codename. Victor holds a spatula in hand, watching french toast sizzle in a pan. He lets out a rough grunt- maybe that’s man for ‘I’m not answering that’. I suck my teeth and refocus on cutting the melon before me. Fruit and french toast go hand in hand. And based on the news this morning, it’s going to keep snowing into the next day; so there’s plenty of time for harassment and cutting up fruit for breakfast. I’ve already cut perfectly cubed honeydew and cantaloupe. 

After another ten minutes of silence I continue probing him, “What’s a ‘weapon X’?” 

Victor snarls and glares at me, “Quit asking me shit.” 

I ignore that, “What’s your deal with Kingpin anyhow? Do you have history?” 

“Harmony.” he warns. 

“I don’t know anything about you Victor!” I point my knife at him, “Is that even your real name?” 

Victor groans, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yes, that’s my real name. My mother named me after her grandfather.” 

My heart soars. Finally we’re getting somewhere! “Did you have a large family?” 

He scoffs, “We lived in the middle of fucking nowhere. It was just my ma, pa, and brothers and sister.” 

I’m taken back to that night, when Victor confided a small but traumatizing portion of his past. One of his brothers he killed when his powers manifested. And his father locked him in the basement for god knows how long and then he killed his father. Maybe family is a poorly chosen topic. 

“What’d you do when you left home?” I like to think he didn’t spend his whole life as a mercenary. 

“I don’t really remember all the details, but around when I was fifteen, sixteen I worked with some assholes laying down railroad tracks. That didn’t last long, cause I ended up killing some guy who pissed me off. Then I lived in the Yukon wilderness for a while.”

He lived in the wild? Like the woods? And isn’t Yukon in- “You’re Canadian!” 

He smirks at me, “Yes.” 

He doesn’t have an accent. Well, I don’t know what Canadians are supposed to sound like, I’ve never met anyone from Canada- which is crazy considering the country is just beyond Lake Michigan. 

Victor continues on. “I don’t really know how old I was, but at some point in my twenties the Great War came about and I joined cause, frankly, I had nowhere to go and nothing better to do-” 

“Hold on a fucking second- you were in World War I?” I know he’s old, but he served in the first fucking World War! 

Victor flips three slices of french toast, “I was. And I fought in World War II, and in the Korean War, and in Vietnam.” 

_ We called him ‘the White Devil’.  _

“So you served in all those wars, and nobody noticed your inability to age or die?”

“Oh, somebody noticed. Quite a few people…” 

“You can’t just leave it at that.” 

“You don’t want to know about my life, baby.” 

“Of course I want to know.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes “Let me rephrase that. I’m not telling you more.” 

“Were you an assassin? Or did you go on top secret missions like a Canadian James Bond?” my imagination runs wild. He did say he’d been experimented on before. Maybe the powers that be, when they realized what he could do, ran crazy tests and sent him on super covert black ops level tasks that should be impossible for a normal person, but he’s far from normal. Jesus, this man is a literal living, breathing history book!

Victor rolls his eyes, “I’m way better than James Bond.” 

“So you did go on secret missions!” 

“My life isn’t all glitter and gold like a James Bond movie, kitten. After the Great War… this man named Romulus recruited me into his organization and I spent many years doing his dirty work. By the time the next world war came about I’d bounced from job to job. Canadian Black Ops. The Hand. Marauders. it was the same kind of work. Someone wanted somebody dead… but that’s all behind me now, I don’t do that shit anymore. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m a bodyguard. Now and then I do odd jobs, but I don’t kill anymore. I’m a changed man.” 

My heart does a little dance. He’s confiding in me, there has to be some hope I convince him to stay. “What made you change?” I say. A lifetime of killing and all of a sudden he decides to be a good guy- there had to be some astronomical form of divine intervention. 

Victor plops a plate full of french toast on the island counter. His eyes are solemn. After a few minutes of silence I thought I’d pushed too far. 

“My son,” he says as he douses eight slices of french toast with maple syrup. “When I learned I’d actually fathered a child, it was a harsh wake up call. I don’t know who the mother was, and I had not always been so kind to women. I figured maybe she, whoever she was, never told me out of fear- that’s how much of an asshole I was. I wanted more than anything to know my son, but he was a grown man when I’d found him and he wanted nothing to do with his mutant father. I always kept tabs on him though. I always knew where he was. And… I didn’t want my son to think of me as a monster anymore. So I severed ties with everything bad in my life.

“I never really got to redeem myself in his eyes, not the way I wanted to. When he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's all his ‘friends’ abandoned him. I tried to take care of him in the early stages, but he still remembered too much. He used to throw shit at me and would sneak out of the house whenever he got the chance. It wasn't until I found him on the interstate one morning when I realized I couldn’t take care of him. Not the way he needed. So I put him in a really nice nursing home, the best money can buy. It was the least I could do. He’s so forgetful now- one time I visited him and he was wearing slacks over pajama pants,” Victor laughs but it's a melancholy sound. 

“God knows I can’t suffer the way humans can, so he punishes me by torturing my child.” 

Tears are already welling in my eyes, “I’m so sorry Victor.” what more is there to say than that?

He laughs again, “so damn sensitive.” 

Even though I want to say something smart back, I don’t, “You can’t use that as an excuse to run from what you want.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” he stuffs his mouth full of french toast. 

“Bad shit happens to people all the time, you can’t blame yourself for that. If you want something you go after it, and if you love someone you don’t let them go.” 

Victor pauses, his mouth wide open and his eyes staring at me like I'd grown a second head. Then it occurred to me what I had spoken aloud. ‘If you love someone…’ 

“What I- what I mean is, um.” my face burns, I can’t even look him in the eyes instead preferring to stare at cubed fruit. Victor is quick in his movements. Quicker than I can react, he grabs me, pulling me into him. 

“Are you in love with me, kitten?” he’s so close to my face; his breath smells like syrup, a sweet aroma. My brain is screaming at me not to kiss him. 

“I definitely feel very strongly about you.” I say softly. 

He leans in closer, his lips brushing my cheek, “love is a strong word, baby.” 

His hands grip just above my curves. “Isn’t the saying, if you love someone set them free?” He chuckles darkly. 

“Fuck that.” I mumble.

“Fuck what?” he pushes at the hem of my tank top, bunching the fabric up my abdomen. I suck in a breath as one of his hands reaches up my stomach and grip my breast. 

“I’ve given you and I a lot of thought, Harmony,” his kisses my temple, “I don’t want to let go either.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! If you liked this story feel free to leave a comment. Also feel free to follow me on my new tumblr account ( main blog: @thekissofmidnight, fanfic blog: @kissofmidnight <-haven't posted anything on this one yet)


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